Going all the Way

by Carly Phillips

  A frisson of anticipation went through him. “Actually, Serena’s coming over to help with that.”

  “Ah. The mysterious Serena. We’ll finally get to meet her, won’t we?”

  “Definitely. The auction is really her baby as much as mine.” But a cold shadow passed over his heart as he answered. He’d like to introduce Serena as the woman in his life, but if she was to be believed, their affair would be over by the night of the auction. There’d been moments during the last few days when she’d looked at him with so much emotion in her eyes that he’d held his breath, certain she’d finally realized that what they shared was stronger than her fears, only to have her dance away, out of reach—emotionally, anyway.

  Her deadline loomed nearer. If Serena was worried about their differences, intimidated by his upbringing or position, he would just try harder to show her that she could fit into his world.

  * * *

  SERENA RESISTED saying anything to the doorman about the suspicious glances he kept sending toward her and her red canvas tote bag, but really, what did he think she was going to do? Steal the ugly and uncomfortable mauve-and-gold-striped chair she’d been waiting in?

  But she’d made good use of the last fifteen minutes, coming up with a few choice words for one David Grant. After the sky-diving ceremony she’d spent most of the day orchestrating, she’d headed as quickly as possible for her apartment to change into something casual enough for unpacking and old enough that she wouldn’t care if it was ripped off her and pack a few things in case she stayed the night again. She’d missed David last night with such fervor that she’d been in a lust-motivated rush to be with him.

  She wouldn’t have hurried if she had known he wouldn’t even be here.

  The security in his building was such that she could come inside, but to use the elevator, guests either had to have a key pass or be buzzed up by the resident. When there had been no response from David’s apartment, she had explained to the doorman that David was expecting her.

  The man’s already skeptical expression had turned positively disdainful. “Mr. Grant,” he’d informed her, “has been out since noon.”

  He had invited her to wait in the lobby, then proceeded to glance her way every few minutes as if she was a psychotic ex-girlfriend he should perhaps protect Mr. Grant from. If David ever bothered to show up, she could show them psychotic. Where was he? The man had promised to get a head start on his apartment today, so that they could spend time together this evening, not that she minded helping with the unpacking. She had fun with him no matter what they were doing…as long as she didn’t get preoccupied with wondering what would happen when their affair was over. It would hurt, she knew that, but she didn’t regret the decision she had made in his office. Sexually speaking, they had already opened Pandora’s box; Serena was just giving them some time to enjoy it, to satisfy their craving and move on.

  Unfortunately, being with him had been more like feeding an addiction. But right at the moment, she was annoyed enough to think that maybe she would be able to move on with her life and find another man. One who didn’t stand up his dates. Sure, it was only fifteen minutes—going on twenty, now—but what really angered her was that she had no way to gauge how much later he would be. He couldn’t have called to let her know? She had a cell phone, for God’s sake! When she’d tried his, she had only received his voice mail, so his phone was either busy because he was talking to a client, or it was turned off because he was with an important client. Either way, it wasn’t hard to see where Serena fell on his priority list. Knowing the hours he kept, she wondered if this was standard modus operandi for how he treated his girlfriends.

  But you’re not his girlfriend.

  Just as she was reminding herself of this, David strode into the building, nodding and already waving off the doorman who approached to tell him he had a visitor. Her tardy date was wearing Saturday business attire, khaki slacks and a dark golf shirt, but his face was slightly flushed and his hair fairly disheveled, considering its length. Man, she was a sucker for him when he looked tousled. Cut it out, she told her hormones, we’re annoyed, remember?

  “Serena, I am so, so sorry. I lost track of time, but then I was hauling ass back here, trying to decide if I should call you or not and my phone rang.”

  She pressed her lips together. “An important business call, right?”

  “No, actually.” He held out his hand to help her up, and she thought about not touching him, since he was sure to win her over faster that way, but there was no reason to be petty. “My parents. From Paris. I couldn’t just hang up on them.”

  If either of her parents thought to call her from abroad, she wouldn’t just brush them off, either. Of course, she probably wouldn’t be able to carry on a conversation because she’d be so shocked to hear from them, but that was another story. To be fair though, her mom had sent her a hastily scrawled postcard a couple of weeks ago to inform her that Bolivia was wonderful, as was Antonio (who’d apparently replaced Miguel).

  David took her tote, shrugging it over his shoulder. “Mom was going on about me finally finding a place to hang my hat, it’s a miracle, hallelujah, and then talking about family portraits for Ben to use in his campaign press kits. You understand, right?”

  Only in the abstract, she thought as they walked to the elevator. She suspected if Meredith’s son, for instance, were to run for office, no one would phone the stepsister in the art district to request her presence in family photos.

  Suddenly David glanced from the bag he carried to Serena, and a broad grin lit his face. “Does this mean you’re staying over?”

  The pull of attraction was far stronger than the grudge she’d been trying to work up. “I was thinking about it.”

  “You mean before I kept you waiting?” He pulled her into his arms as the elevator moved up. “Stay with me. Then I’ll have all night to make it up to you.”

  What woman in her right mind could resist an offer like that?

  * * *

  SERENA never would have guessed that her “perfect place” could be an overpriced apartment suite that was home to a talking coffeemaker (a gift, he’d sheepishly explained) and enough business suits to open a men’s clothing department. But, lying on her side Sunday evening across David’s king-size bed with him snuggled against her back, one strong arm locked around her bare midsection, she was feeling dangerously content. Happy, sexually sated—for the moment—and perhaps more at peace than she’d felt since she’d learned David was moving to Atlanta.

  David nuzzled her shoulder, his weekend version of a five-o’clock shadow brushing her skin. “You asleep?”

  “Uh-uh. You promised there’d be food later.” She turned to grin at him. “I don’t want to waste away to nothing, you know.”

  His blue gaze ran over her body. “Nope, can’t have that happening.”

  He seemed so relaxed that her smile widened. Even though he’d been happy to see her last night and had lived up to his promise to make her waiting worthwhile, for the first hour or so she’d been here, he had obviously still been tense about his work dilemma. It had been gratifying to see his preoccupation replaced by desire.

  “You look good like this,” Serena observed. Nicely rumpled, grinning, with a manly hint of stubble along his hard jaw. “You’re one of those guys who somehow makes scruffy very sexy.”

  Although one of was a ridiculous way to put it, because David was in a class by himself.

  He kissed her knuckles, then dropped another kiss at her collarbone, slowly turning his head so that his cheek scraped over her skin. “It doesn’t bother you? Not too scratchy, or anything?”

  “I like it rough,” she teased.

  His eyes glinted with wicked mischief. “Definitely filing that away for later. The way you’re looking at me now, it’ll almost be a damn shame to shave again. But somehow I doubt AGI would share your appreciation for the scruffy image.”

  She snorted. “Like facial hair really impacts a person’s
job performance.”

  Sitting up, she glanced around for her shirt, or one of his. Anything she could wear while rummaging his badly stocked kitchen for food. “Did any of our clothes actually make it back to the bedroom?”

  They’d made love in several other places first, before showering together and falling into his bed.

  He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You don’t have to get dressed on my account.”

  “One appetite at a time, slugger.” She glanced at the floor again. They’d unpacked a fitted sheet and slept under his comforter, but the matching ivory bedsheet was still lying at the top of a nearby open box. She reached for that and wrapped it around her. “I have this fantasy that I’ll get to the kitchen and little elves will have left groceries.”

  “Hmm.” He knelt by his side of the bed and retrieved a pair of shorts from somewhere. “I was sort of hoping for a starring role in your fantasies. I’m disappointed to hear it’s elves instead. Don’t worry. Assuming they didn’t stock the pantry, we’ll order out.”

  “Again?” She recalled his apartment in college—a considerably cushier place to study than the library or her dorm, but he’d never had anything edible on hand. He’d generously sprung for countless pizzas, though, pretty much the staple of David’s university diet. “You know it would be cheaper if you ever just bought groceries.”

  “Cut me a break. I may not have the assortment of fresh produce you’re always replenishing, but I’m in the middle of a move here.”

  “And you do more cooking when you’re not midmove?”

  “Well.” He glanced down sheepishly. “They say time is money, and I work a lot of hours, so when you look at…What?”

  “Nothing.” She tried forcibly to smooth away the scowl she could feel on her face. Why was she feeling cranky all of a sudden? The reminder of his scheduling priorities, the reminder that they had a different perspective on money? Or just low blood sugar? “Let’s go see what we can get delivered in this neighborhood of yours. Unless you want to pick something up.”

  “I hadn’t planned to leave the apartment. That requires your really getting dressed.” His gaze trailed over the bed-linen spooled around her body. “I’d be perfectly happy for you to wear even less than that for the next two weeks.”

  Her laugh was strained. “That might make Dad’s wedding awkward.” Correction, more awkward.

  The wedding! As David padded out of the room, she realized she’d never followed up on her rash promise to Meredith to find a suitable escort. Invite David. He more than qualified.

  Not a chance.

  But why not? In times past, she would easily have asked him for the favor, assuming he didn’t already have social plans with some coiffed heiress sorority chick. She tried to picture him among Meredith and James’s guests—her dad’s workaholic younger brother, Meredith’s supersuccessful kids, tons of country-club members Serena wouldn’t know. David would fit in effortlessly.

  What a depressing thought.

  Heaving a sigh, she joined him in the kitchen, where he’d pulled an assortment of brochures, menus and other literature out of a black folder. She raised her eyebrows. “One day in the apartment and you’ve already amassed all that information? I mean, I knew you were organized, but…”

  “It was in my welcome packet.”

  Ah. Of course. When she’d first moved into her loft, she’d been given two keys and a warning that the tattoo place on the corner overcharged.

  “What are we in the mood for?” he asked. “Seafood? Barbecue?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Barbecue tends not to be vegetarian-friendly.”

  After they finally decided on pizza, she laughed, thinking that some things never changed. And some do.

  While physically, this newfound freedom to explore her attraction to David was the ultimate in sensual enjoyment, emotionally it made her feel helplessly vulnerable. Growing up, she’d often felt distanced from others. Unlike most of her classmates, she’d had no siblings, her grandparents had all lived out of state, her mother was caught up in starring in her own life movie, and James fretted whenever his daughter laughed too loudly in an inappropriate situation or wanted to run barefoot.

  Serena had had friends, sure, but she’d gotten used to a certain distance in her relationships. As close as she and David had become, they’d kept things platonic until now and had dated other people, which provided a feeling of safety. Was that why she’d never consciously acknowledged how drawn to him she was in college?

  She stared out the glass sliding doors on the other side of his sunken living room. The skyline twinkled in the growing darkness, making her somehow feel small and overwhelmed. While David placed their order, she wandered onto the balcony. The air was so soft against her skin that she didn’t even mind the warm humidity. Being outdoors had always made her feel more balanced. She had a little patio at her place, too, but it was a concrete slab that looked out onto the parking lot. Certainly not a generous deck with enough space to house a state-of-the-art gas grill and a padded rattan chaise longue.

  A few seconds later, she heard David’s footsteps behind her as he disconnected the call. “Isn’t it great out here?”

  “Beautiful.” She propped her elbows on the brick privacy wall, enjoying the breeze at this altitude. “Nice place for cooking out.”

  He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her against the lean length of him. “I’ll have to invite you over as soon as I dig up some killer veggie kabob recipes.”

  She smiled but didn’t answer as she angled her head back into his chest, enjoying the familiar scent of him, the tickle of his chest hair.

  He nuzzled her neck, running his teeth lightly over the corded muscle then traveling up toward her ear. Warmth suffused her, needing very little encouragement to turn from small sparks of pleasure to an actual burn to make love to him. She welcomed the hunger, the physical need that blurred the edges of her unwanted thoughts.

  “Know what else the balcony’s good for?” David asked just before touching the tip of his tongue to her earlobe.

  She shivered at the erotically delicate sensation. “Hanging flowers?”

  He slid his hand over her collarbone, loosening the sheet wound around her, finding her breast and plucking at her already erect nipple until her body shuddered. “Guess again.”

  She turned in his arms, craving his kiss and hoping he wasn’t planning to stop with just foreplay. “Aren’t we expecting the pizza soon?”

  “That’s why quickies were invented.” He took her hand and led her to the lounger. “Unless you object to that idea.”

  Object? She was already letting the sheet fall to the ground even as he spoke, tugging his head toward hers, darting her tongue out to catch the corner of his lips. It was a catch-22 situation—every time they made love, she felt a little more vulnerable afterward, but having sex with David was the only thing that drowned out the clamoring thoughts in her head about family, work and whether or not she was risking extreme heartbreak with him.

  She sat on the edge of the adjustable seat, but when he started to press her shoulders back to the thick padding, Serena dropped her hands to his waist, pushing with just enough resistance that he straightened.

  “Something wrong?” he asked, his voice husky with the need they stirred within each other.

  She shoved down his shorts. “Nope. Just something I wanted to do first,” she explained as he kicked free of the material.

  So often when they made love, he seemed to be lavishing her with attention. It was amazing, but at times overwhelming. Besides, a man with a body like David’s was meant to be explored. She might have to wait until later to do a more thorough job, but for now…

  She ran her fingernails up the back of his muscled thighs, over steely buttocks and around to the front where his abs were clenched as his body waited in tense anticipation. Meeting his gaze, she brought both her hands toward the erection jutting from the nest of dark curls, first tracing over the soft sacs beneath, cupping
their weight and feeling him tremble with restrained passion. He stood still, with noticeable effort, as she continued her sensual exploration. His shaft was thick and smooth, and he moaned when she wrapped her fingers around it. Her heart fluttered, her own pulse seeming to escalate in sync with his arousal, and she bent forward to brush her tongue up and down the length of him.

  Slowly, she drew him between her lips. He was hard velvet and tasted earthy, like salt and desire. The way he rasped her name was empowering. When he tangled his hands in her hair in wordless encouragement, she increased the speed and pressure, tightening her mouth around him, swallowing once experimentally. His hips jerked at the convulsive movement. With one hand wrapped around the base of him and the other clutching the back of his thigh, she slid her mouth over him again and again until he was rocking to meet the pace she set.

  Though he never left any doubt as to how much he wanted her, sometimes he seemed too in control, so invulnerable. Now he seemed only like a man swamped with need—for her. His obvious pleasure magnified her own wanting. Her nipples were tight aching points, and her body teetered close enough to the fiery brink of orgasm that she didn’t want to wait much longer.

  When she stopped to reach for his discarded shorts, their mingled breathing was much louder than the sounds from the street below. David was always prepared, and she knew she’d find a condom in one of the pockets. The man didn’t disappoint. She rolled the latex over him, noticing that her hand trembled slightly with eagerness. Reclining on the lounger, she pulled him down with her.

  She planted one foot on the patio, wrapping the other around his hip, giving herself balance to thrust her pelvis up toward him as he drove into her. Her muscles clenched greedily around him, and she wondered if she’d ever stop being amazed at how perfectly he filled her. Almost distantly, she heard the protesting creak of the recliner beneath her as her hips flexed and raised rapidly.

  “Not yet,” David ground out. “I don’t…want this to be over yet.”

  Did the man not understand the concept of a quickie? But she couldn’t form words well enough to argue right at the moment.