by Dee Tenorio
He brought her down slow, wanting her soft and melting around him when he finally slid inside. Soothing her with a kiss to her thigh, he ran his hands up her flanks, massaging the curve of her hips. His hands smoothed across her skin, purposely calming, but with his mouth he tasted, nipped, caressed, knowing it would keep her yearning for the next touch. He took his time on her breasts, gentling his touch when she seemed to jump at the pressure. He laved each nipple, using only his fingertips to touch them, soft as whispers. Only here, with her, did being meticulous truly matter. Not a millimeter of her would be missed. He wanted her to feel him with every inch of her body, to know there wasn’t a part of her, inside or out, that he didn’t know. By the time he made it up to her lips, the shadows in her eyes were dark, along with the sheen of tears.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, stunned.
A tear slid out of the corner of her left eye, followed quickly by another on the other side. She shook her head, biting her lips together.
“What’s wrong?” She had to talk now. He moved to pull away, but she grabbed his shoulders.
“No, don’t stop, please.”
“Tell me why you’re crying.”
Her smile cracked something in him. His chest could have broken concrete with the pressure. “Haven’t you ever been part of something so beautiful you never wanted it to end?”
Before her? He shook his head. “No.”
Her smile died. There wasn’t another word for it. It fell and her eyes shuttered closed. He’d answered wrong, he knew it. But when he opened his mouth to apologize, she reached up to him.
“Make love to me, David,” she whispered, pulling his face down to hers. Her kiss was different, tinged with tears. He didn’t like it, knowing the shaking in her lips wasn’t from pleasure. “Make love to me, even if you don’t mean it.”
He frowned, even as her hands slipped between them to encircle his erection. She stroked, guiding him to the heated softness of her. He slid home, groaning with her at the sensation. “Krista—”
“Please.”
How could he do anything but give her what she asked? Closing his eyes, he began to move. Let this be enough. God, let me be enough for her…
She tightened her hold, her arms and legs locking around him, even the moist grip of her sex rippling around him. He surged into her, drowning in the liquid heat and the silken slide filling his senses. He kissed her tears away, thrusting slow and deep.
Her hips lifted, meeting him, urging him on. “Faster,” she whispered, her nails pushing into his skin.
He gave, just as she wanted, pulling back and pistoning forward in short, rapid thrusts. She moaned and he changed the angle, rolling upward to stroke her clit with each thrust. Her whole body jerked, her gasp exactly what he was hoping for, and then she was meeting him again, demanding more.
Levering upward, David pried her legs from around him and slipped his hands beneath her thighs. Filling his palms with her buttocks, he held her open for the deepest stroke he could give. She curled her fists in the sheets on the downstroke, his shaft almost all the way out of her before he thrust it down to the hilt.
She cried out, not in pain as he almost feared. She clamped her muscles around him tighter, her toes straining for the surface of the mattress to help him keep her up. But he didn’t want that. Lifting her just that little bit higher, he did it again, loosing a groan of his own with the wet kiss of their bodies meeting.
Again and again, he filled her, watching her body arch as the thrusts became relentless. Pounding. But he couldn’t stop, not until he knew for sure she was mindless with the pleasure. Until she was sated and limp and not only unable to leave him… Unwilling to leave.
The first orgasm had her strung tight as a bow, the release forcing her to buck against him. The second—built in moments—left her boneless, her body slinking to the bed where he followed her, taking her mouth while he surged into her over and over again, his own climax seconds from his reach. Then suddenly it was there, blinding him to everything but the feel of her beneath him, her hands holding onto his shoulders and her tears on his jaw.
They’ll dry, he reassured himself, kissing her softly again. He’d give her time to rest, time to recover, then he’d start all over again. Until the tears were gone and with them, any fear that she’d go, taking the first taste of true happiness he’d ever known.
He gathered her in his arms, his heart unable to find its usual peaceful rhythm. They’ll dry.
But if he were honest with either of them, he already knew they wouldn’t.
Chapter Four
The door to Mr. Ellison’s office was open when Taylor arrived at the office crisply at eight in the morning. She’d been nervous, because she was pretty sure he was going to fire her, but she’d forced herself to come in and take the punishment. Her boss, however, never had his door open. Least of all open wide like that.
She took a tentative step toward the portal, leaning forward to peer into the dark room. The blinds, though closed, leaked lines of light onto the desk at the far side of the room. The chair was spun almost facing the back wall, but there were no outward signs that he’d been there. “Mr. Ellison?”
Nothing. The door must have been left open by the overnight cleaning crew. Maybe they’d had a temp or something. Sighing at her own nervousness, she decided the first things to do would be to lighten the room up, make his coffee as usual and pretend yesterday had never happened.
She’d walked halfway in before she realized he was sitting at his desk, sunken into the back of his leather chair, holding something in his hand, staring at it like it held all the secrets of the universe. He didn’t look good either. Unshaven, no tie, no coat. Was that yesterday’s white shirt?
“Are you okay, sir?”
He didn’t look up from the piece of metal supported by his steepled fingers. “I’m…”
Taylor waited, but he didn’t seem like he knew what to say. Okay, this was officially creepy. She backed up a step on the thick gray carpet, jumping when his voice rang out.
“Have I been a bad boss, Taylor?”
If she wasn’t looking at him, watching him glare at what she could now clearly tell was the diamond ring he’d found on his desk yesterday, she wouldn’t have thought there was anything wrong with him. He sounded as emotionless as ever. But the man was clearly a mess. And if there was one thing she knew, she didn’t want to be anywhere near a messy man. They always needed someone to clean up after them.
“N-no, sir.” Maybe she could claim she felt sick. “Of course not.”
“Never said anything to you that made you feel uncomfortable?”
Not until right now. “No.”
“Even when I had every excuse to fire you yesterday, I didn’t say anything…unforgivable to you, did I?”
Taylor bit her lip. Was there a right answer to this question? “I wouldn’t…say…so.”
“The question is pretty straightforward, Taylor. Have I ever offended you? Made you angry? Said something you think I shouldn’t have?”
Soooo shouldn’t have come in this morning. “Definitely not, sir.”
“Definitely not.” He seemed to be mulling that over. Taylor stole another step backward. “Can you define for me, then, what words a woman would find unforgivable?”
Uh-oh. Taylor swallowed. “So you spoke to Ms. James, then?”
“Don’t worry, she knows it wasn’t me you were with yesterday.” He shrugged as if that mistake didn’t matter. Except it was the most unnatural shrug she’d ever seen. Not a hitching of the joint, more like some kind of itch he tried to rub with the back of his chair. “I’ve been going over and over our conversation and I can’t figure out what I did wrong.”
“Wrong, sir?”
“She’s gone.”
She might not know her boss too well on a personal basis, but she didn’t need to in order to pick up on the savage pain in his voice.
“I don’t understand why she’s gone. She said the argument was
finished.”
Taylor couldn’t help but pull down the corners of her bottom lip. Yikes.
“What was that? Why did you make that face?”
“What face?” She darted a look to the still-open door. She could make a break for it.
“I did something wrong and you know what it is.”
“I don’t sir, I really don’t.”
“Then why the face?”
She sighed. Self-preservation might be screaming at her to leave, but technically this was her fault. Even she knew her boss had no idea how to talk to people right. The number of confused clients who’d come out of his office had gone down after his fiancée worked with him, but there were still several with that lost, did-he-just-say-what-I-think-he-said look as they left. “Did she say it was okay or that it was finished?”
He frowned. “Finished. Why? Isn’t it the same thing?”
Taylor shook her head. “If she’d said it was okay, she’d have meant she wasn’t mad at you anymore. If she said it was finished, that probably meant she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Why didn’t she just say that?”
Oy, this guy knew less than nothing about women. But it wouldn’t be the first time she wondered how he’d managed to hang on to Krista James for so long. Even that saint had to have a breaking point. “Sometimes women want you to say the right thing to make us feel better.”
“Then why don’t they tell me what they want to hear?” he asked, all seriousness in his tone.
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Because other times we just want you to shut up.”
His eyes narrowed. “Me or all men?”
“Oh, definitely you. Sometimes all men. But most of the time, just you.”
Her boss’s handsome face hardened, his jaw working back and forth. Unquestionably angry. But what the hell, he was going to fire her anyway.
“Look, she knows you’re no good at picking up on—well, anything. If she’s upset enough not to be talking to you, and you’re sure she doesn’t think you and I were…were…” She swallowed hard when his blue gaze seared her face. She could completely understand, in a moment like this, why Krista James—a diamond heiress for Pete’s sake—wanted an emotionally stunted CPA as her one and only. The man was gorgeous, but she’d always known that. No, it was that intensity burning under the surface. Fixed on you—in a good way, she decided then and there—it might as well be a drug. David Ellison paid singular attention to his work, but if Krista had ever managed to make him forget his numbers… Wow.
Taylor coughed. “Well, if she knows it wasn’t us, then she’s upset about something else.”
He threw up his hands. “What else could there be?”
“Have you asked her?”
“She won’t say.” He pressed back into his chair, looking sullen.
Taylor walked over, suddenly feeling like she was talking to her teenage brother instead of a man ten years her senior. She kicked his foot lightly. “Then go over there and keep asking until she tells you. Because believe you me, Mr. Ellison, you’re never going to find another girl like Krista James. Most of us would bash you over the head with something, but for some reason, she really seems to love you. The least you could do is grovel a little for what you put her through.”
She jumped at the slice of his gaze cutting her way.
“Loves me?”
This was a surprise? “Well, yeah. Anyone with half a brain can see it. The way she smiles at you, even when you’re not looking. The way she takes care of you. God, she doesn’t even get mad at you when you say the meanest things to her.”
“I’m not mean to Krista.”
Taylor snorted. “Yeah, okay.”
“What do you mean, I’m mean to her?”
“Are you serious?” She crossed her arms. “How about when she brought in lunch for us on D-Day?” The last tax day of the year was always a nightmare, especially for poor secretaries faxing extensions as if their lives depended on it. “You didn’t even thank her or kiss her goodbye. You told her to put it on the table by the window and ignored her until she went away.” Taylor wasn’t sure, but she’d thought she’d seen tears shining in Krista’s pretty eyes that day. “Or all the times you cancel on her with all of five minutes’ warning. You don’t even say you’re sorry, or worse, you make me do it. Have you ever brought her flowers or done anything nice to make it up to her?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but Taylor held up her hand and smirked. “For the record, no, sex is not an apology. God, where did you come from? A hole in the ground?”
He shifted as if his chair was suddenly uncomfortable. “My parents weren’t people who talked much.”
Not touching that one. “It’s not that you’re cruel on purpose. We all know that. You’re just thoughtless.”
He straightened with affront but she didn’t let that bother her. Someone had to tell him, and apparently, that unfortunate soul was her.
“You hurt her feelings. All the time. Left, right and center. And if you’ve never apologized—with words—then yeah, after a while, it’s pretty unforgivable.”
“Our relationship has never been about those kinds of words.”
“All relationships need those kinds of words, even the ones that aren’t personal. I sure could have used an ‘I’m sorry’ or a ‘thank you’ from time to time.” At least once a week, really, but once a month would do.
“I’ve said ‘thank you’ before, I’m not a complete cretin.”
“Oh yeah? When’s the last time you said it to Krista?” If Taylor didn’t know better, she’d think he was blushing. “You definitely need to do groveling. Flowers, presents, the works. Maybe even a weekend away from your computer.”
“It’s the middle of March!”
Prime tax season. “One weekend away is not going to kill your business. Besides, you were looking into expanding anyway. Get a few more nerds in here to do the grunt work and you’ll be fine. Go show her she’s more important to you than an extra client. She’ll be back in a flash, I guarantee it.” And if Krista didn’t come back, well, Taylor could see herself moving out of San Diego without too much strain.
He stared at her blankly.
Taylor blinked, wondering if she’d stepped in it now. “She is more important, isn’t she?”
Mr. Ellison looked around, not seeming to be taking anything in, his gaze darting left and right.
“You mean, this is the first time you’ve ever thought about it?”
He continued to look thunderstruck.
Disgusted, she crossed her arms and shook her head at him. “You are an idiot.”
He looked at her then. “It’s not the first time, all right. I’m just…she never said… You really think it could work?”
Taylor nodded, hoping like hell Krista was as dumb for this guy as she acted. “What are you waiting for? Go grovel.”
“I can’t.” He dropped his head in his hands and sighed.
“Why not?”
“When I woke up this morning, she was gone. Suitcases and all. She left without a word or a note.”
Ouch. “So what are you going to do?”
He picked up his head to glare at her. “What can I do? Wait for her, I guess.”
“Um, sir? Isn’t she an heiress with an inexhaustible fortune? You could be waiting a really long time.”
He paled. Either he was the dumbest smart guy she’d ever met or losing his girlfriend had given him an instant lobotomy.
“Krista’s an organized girl. There’s gotta be some clue where she went.” Taylor reached out and looped her arm through his. A full body pull and he was on his feet, looking like he had no idea how he got that way. Yup, lobotomy. “Come on, let’s go to her place and figure it out.”
“You’re going to help me?”
“Well, I kinda owe you for not firing me.”
“Yet.”
Taylor rolled her eyes and pulled. “If I find Krista, you’re not only not firing me, I expect a raise.”
Chapter Five
This was such a dumb idea.
Krista stared at the multitude cruising the beach in full view of her bungalow. People dressed in all manner of swimwear—including a few things she was pretty sure counted as little more than a few pieces of twine. Everyone was brown, burned or baked. Not her. She lay on a cushioned recliner, slathered in sunscreen, as iridescently white as she’d been three hours ago when she’d convinced herself that the whole point of racing away to Tahiti was to stop thinking about David. And what an absolute idiot she’d made of herself with him for the last two years.
It had all started with a temper tantrum. She’d matured enough in the last three years that she could now admit she’d been rash. That last, desperate argument with her father had resulted in her telling him she didn’t need his money. That she could take care of herself just fine without him. Never let it be said Elmore James couldn’t take a dare.
Faster than she could scream “Gucci”, her credit accounts were frozen, her bags were packed and she’d been summarily removed from her family holdings. Oh, he hadn’t offed her completely. She still talked to her mother regularly—Elmore wasn’t about to come between the two of them if he had any plans to see seventy. He gave her a place to live, an apartment in one of his many condominium developments. The rent was controlled, but she was expected to pay it in order to stay. How, his lawyer explained, was completely up to her, as she’d “requested”.
Her friends—the ones who’d been so supportive when she’d complained about her father making every decision in her life from her schools to her clothes to her dates—had disappeared as soon as everyone discovered she’d been financially disowned. Just as Elmore had predicted.
The first month of her exile had been a rude awakening. Determined not to fail, she’d pulled herself together. She got herself a job at a local department store and made enough for the basics. Rent, food, the occasional treat. At the very least, it had been a surefire way to become the envy of all her previous friends—she’d lost ten pounds without even trying. By the end of that first year, she’d just managed to get her feet under her, started to feel that maybe it wasn’t impossible to take care of herself, when the letter from the IRS had arrived. An audit.