by Stacey Lynn
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze moving to my eyes.
I smiled shyly, feeling slightly vulnerable, bared before him when he was the one who wanted to stop. He didn’t want to now, though, and I wouldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted to me.
I was still on edge. The area between my thighs still pulsed with need.
His thumb grazed my nipple and I gasped, my chest arching into his hands.
It was my non-silent approval, and apparently, all he needed to see and hear before his lips were back on mine and his hands were all over me. We touched each other, swallowed each other’s cries and pleasured gasps, and my hips began to shamelessly rock against his erection again.
There was no turning back now.
I was fighting to undo his buckle when one of his hands left my breast and clamped down over my own.
“No.” He shook his head, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “Not tonight.”
“But.” I stopped and swallowed thickly. His hand on mine moved until his finger traced the edges of my black pants. My stomach shivered and it sent bursts of flames to my core.
“I just want to touch you tonight.”
“What if I want to touch you?” I asked, and he flashed me a grin. Not amused, more that he was hiding a promise behind his smile.
“The next time I touch you, the first time I’m inside you, there will be nothing between us.”
I frowned. I was on the pill. We didn’t have to have anything between us now. Before I could explain, his mouth covered mine, and he made me his even if he didn’t know it.
I knew in that moment, as his finger dipped below my waistband, seeking its target, I had already given him my heart all over again, even though I was terrified it would only end up shattered all over again.
I was powerless to stop it. Rational thought fled as soon as Tyson touched me.
His fingers found my center and I gasped into his mouth, pressing into him as he brushed my clit, slid through my wetness, and then inside me. My body pulsed and quivered into his arm at my back, and he swallowed my cries as my orgasm began rising. It rolled and crested until the waves grew higher and higher, closer together. It clawed at me, starting at my toes, spread up my legs until my thighs shook and trembled…and then everything shattered. I cried his name out loud, pulling apart from Tyson’s lips as my climax overwhelmed me.
My head fell to his shoulder as his ministrations slowed and he slipped his fingers from inside me. Both of his hands wrapped around my lower back, and one hand slid up until he cupped my shoulder. He held me to him while I trembled from aftershocks and I reveled in the quick beating of our hearts against our chests.
“Beautiful,” he whispered into my ear. “You’ve always been so beautiful.”
A puff of breath escaped my lips. I nuzzled closer to him.
“Please stay,” I said hesitantly. My hands wrapped around his back. “Stay the night with me.”
Chapter 7
There wasn’t a brick wall at my back when I woke up the next morning. Instead, I was somehow lying on it. As I opened my eyes, the first thing I realized was that my head was resting on Tyson’s shoulder and my arm was draped across his stomach, my hand low on his hip.
My leg was thrown over one of his. I was practically lying directly on top of the man, and based on the way his arm was curved around my back, resting on my waist, the sleeping man beneath me didn’t seem to mind.
Not if the hardness pressed against my thigh was any indication.
As soon as I felt it, every muscle in my body tensed. With nerves or anticipation, I didn’t know, because I wasn’t given the chance to find out. Tyson’s hand on my waist tightened, and he flipped and rolled us and I quickly found myself on my back.
Beneath him.
My jaw dropped as he hovered over me¸ keeping some of his weight off me by bracing his forearm next to the side of my head while his other arm still wrapped around my back.
“Good morning,” he mumbled right before he dipped his head and his lips took mine.
And it was so good, I didn’t think about morning breath, bed head, or leftover makeup smeared beneath my eyes before his tongue dipped into my mouth, swirled with mine, and he let loose a low groan that hit the deepest parts of me. My hands moved to his hips, holding him to me, and my knees widened until I could feel his hardness press against me.
Perfect.
“Good morning,” I whispered when he pulled back and began trailing his lips across my jaw. My fingers gripped his waist and then slowly began running up his back, feeling all of his muscles flex and bunch. His warm breath skated across my skin, eliciting a delicious shiver that danced down my spine. I shifted into him, my fingernails dug into his shoulders, and just as Tyson began pushing up the tank top I had on to reach my skin, his phone rang.
“Ignore it,” I muttered against his mouth. My voice was breathy, panting.
His was just as erratic when he groaned into my neck. “I can’t. Shit.”
With another kiss to my throat, he slowly let me go, and rolled off me until he was sitting up at the far edge of the bed. I rolled over to face him and watched him dig his cellphone out of his back jeans pocket.
“Blackwell,” he said and glanced over his shoulder at me. Whatever softness had been in his eyes when he was on top of me evaporated and his face and voice grew tight. “It’s Sunday.”
I took my cue from the sudden coolness in his expression, rolled to my side of the bed, and rushed to the bathroom. My cheeks were flushed, my pupils dilated, and thank goodness I didn’t have time to think about morning breath, or bed head, or smeared mascara earlier, because as I took stock of myself while I reached for my toothbrush, I learned I had all of the above.
I looked like a hungover raccoon and cringed at my reflection.
But Tyson didn’t seem to mind, so I thought about that while I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and used the toilet. Then I snagged the robe hanging on the bathroom door on my way out and paused when I saw Tyson sitting in almost the exact same position he was in when I left the room. Legs spread wide on the edge of the bed, one elbow to his knee, his forehead in his palm and the other hand still held the phone. In order to avoid interrupting him, I quietly moved toward the living room and barely caught what he was saying into the receiver.
“I’m working on it…well, I tried to warn you…Yes, I told you, it’ll be fine.”
Due to the nature of my father’s business, I understood that all sorts of things happened at all hours of the day and that phone calls that didn’t involve me, or any conversations for that matter, were best left alone. So I stopped listening, closed the bedroom door behind me, and went to make coffee.
I was lost in dreams of caramel-flavored coffee and memories of the way Tyson’s body felt against mine, so I didn’t hear him enter the room. I jumped when his warm arm wrapped around my waist and his hand rested on my stomach, pulling me toward him.
“Wasn’t how I wanted to start the morning,” he whispered huskily into my ear. I relaxed further, and let him pull me up against his chest. I could now feel he’d gotten fully dressed. “But I need to get to work.”
I frowned, felt my lips push into a pout.
“Okay,” I muttered and reached for the carafe. “Can I get you coffee before you leave?”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against my cheek. “Sorry, Blue, but I can’t.”
I shifted in his arms until he let me go and took a step back. Sipping my first hit of daily-recommended caffeine, I closed my eyes and relished the taste.
“On a Sunday?” I asked and held the mug in both hands close to my chest.
He looked at me for a moment before answering with a wry grin. “Law doesn’t wait for anyone or any day.”
“Okay then, I guess…have a good day?” His eyes looked blank, making nerves begin to build inside me.
We hadn’t had sex.
Even if we had, I had no reason to be embarrassed,
but while he was doing all the right things, saying all the right things, something had put distance between us since we had rolled out of bed. Tyson stepped toward me, and my throat tightened.
“Give me your phone.” He held out his hand. My eyes dropped to his palm and then raised back up to meet his. I stared at him, dumbly, until a small smile spread into a wide grin that flashed amusement in his eyes. “I want your number, Blue. I want to put my number in your phone, but I can’t do that without your phone.”
“Oh. Right.” I caught his quiet laugh while I moved back to the bedroom, grabbed my phone from the nightstand next to the bed, and headed back to the living room.
When I reached the kitchen, I saw Tyson set my mug on the counter. “I thought you didn’t have time for coffee,” I said, teasing him.
“Just wanted a taste.”
I unlocked my phone and handed it to him, watched while he added his number, and then caught another smile stretching his cheeks.
“What’s funny?” I asked and he handed me my phone. Looking down at the screen, I chuckled when I saw that he entered his name into my contacts as “Blackbird.” I lifted my eyes to his and matched his smile. “You remember.”
Blackbird was the nickname given to him by a bunch of his football buddies once everyone found out the reason Tyson called me Blue was because my full middle name is Bluejay. They got a kick out of teasing us mercilessly but good-naturedly.
“Told you I remember everything.”
I sent him a quick text, just a quick hello, and set my phone on the counter after his phone pinged with a notification in his rear pocket.
“Now you have mine,” I said, my voice quiet, and for some reason, my cheeks began to heat.
Tyson reached out and pressed his palm to my cheek. His lips brushed against mine once, and then twice, before he pulled back and said, “I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night. Do you have any plans?”
I stiffened as I remembered my father saying Malik could be contacting me tomorrow, but I couldn’t imagine he’d want to do dinner immediately.
“I shouldn’t,” I finally said. “I have to do some job hunting and apartment looking, but can I let you know once I’m certain?”
“Definitely. Have a good day.”
He kissed me again, another soft goodbye kiss that lacked the passion of our first kisses this morning. When he was gone, I was once again left staring at a closed hotel room door. Disappointment balled inside my gut at his abrupt departure, at the way our morning went from something that could have been really…really good…to distant and passionless.
Because if it were up to me, we would have been back in my bed, pleasuring each other with a quickie if that was all he had time for before he had to leave.
The disappointment in my gut grew into something larger at the thought that maybe he didn’t want me as much as I wanted him.
“Stop it,” I muttered to myself and reached for my now barely warm cup of coffee. “You’re just horny, and he was in a hurry. No big deal.”
Somehow, the pep talk helped, as did a fresh cup of coffee.
I spent the rest of the afternoon searching for jobs, ensuring my résumé was up to date, and then emailing it off to several different companies in the Detroit metro area and a few northern suburbs.
Then I fixed myself up for dinner at my parents’ and spent time with my mom. All before trudging back to my hotel room, exhausted and emotionally drained from another few hours spent at my mom’s bedside, sitting there with nothing to do while she slept almost the entire time.
I crawled into my bed and was just about ready to fall asleep when my phone beeped.
Blackbird: Night, Blue
A grin stretched my tired lips. My body warmed.
Me: Night, Black
His response was almost instant.
Blackbird: Tomorrow
Since I didn’t know if that was a question or a promise, I didn’t respond. Grinning, I slid the phone back onto the table, curled under my covers, and fell asleep with one arm wrapped around Tyson’s pillow from the night before, wishing like hell I that hadn’t let the cleaning crew into my room so I could still smell him on the sheets and pillowcase.
I didn’t even care if that made me seem crazy anymore.
—
“You look distracted, bella.”
Clarissa’s gentle and accented voice pulled me out of the daydreams that I had been having of Tyson. She was completely right. My cheeks warmed under her knowing smile.
“I’m just looking for jobs.”
She snapped a towel on the kitchen counter as she passed me. “Looks to me you have a man on your mind and not a job.”
I pressed my lips together, but she still saw the smile in my eyes.
“You going to tell me about him?”
I shook my head. While Clarissa knew about Tyson and me in high school, she had always warned me it was a bad idea, even while helping me hide it. I knew what it could have cost her. I wouldn’t do that to her again. Not that there was anything to hide.
Because today was tomorrow and it was already two in the afternoon and I hadn’t spoken to Tyson about the date he wanted to take me on. I hadn’t heard from him at all since that text. And I still didn’t know if I could even go on a date with Tyson because I also hadn’t heard from Malik Rilotti.
I desired to see or speak with only one of those men.
The wondering and the waiting left me feeling scatterbrained for most of the afternoon I had been at my parents’ house. Deciding it didn’t make sense to do my work at the hotel and then come see my mom only to have her sleep, I chose to do both at once and got dressed and ready that morning in attire my father would deem “appropriate,” which meant my toes were crammed into heels and I was wearing dress pants. I had loosened the button and zipper on the pants and kicked off the heels hours ago, but I still didn’t feel comfortable. Regardless, when my father had seen me, he seemed pleased as he dipped his chin in my direction and hurried out the door to a meeting.
I had spent the day alternating between visiting my mom upstairs and shooting off résumés in the kitchen while she slept. Clarissa was my only, albeit sporadic, company during the day and she had caught me daydreaming twice. She caught me playing mindless games on my cellphone three times.
Only once did she see me email a résumé or contact a hotel about an event planner position.
Turns out that while the economy in Detroit was on the upswing, people still weren’t in party mode yet, and my options were slim. I let loose a growl of frustration, my hands harshly brushing through my hair as I continued to stare at the computer screen. Annoyance with my own situation grew with every passing moment.
Technically, I didn’t have to work. I knew this. I had a nice, hefty trust fund sitting in a bank account, every year growing more interest than I could ever imagine spending. I never wanted to touch it, though, considering I knew that some of the ways that money was earned was with blood, drugs, and other illegal activities I didn’t want to know about. As far as I was concerned, it didn’t exist to me, but on days when I saw the small amount I’d saved from odd jobs in Colorado and from working on the farm, its temptation called to me.
My phone buzzed on the counter and I reached for it, hope blooming in my chest that it might be Tyson. But the number was unknown, and I quickly slid my thumb across the screen, thinking it could be someone about a job I had applied for.
“Hello?”
And hope disappeared when a masculine voice replied, “Hello, Gabriella.”
Based on the slight accent, and the deep tone, I instantly knew who had called.
“Mr. Rilotti.”
A low, rough chuckle filtered through the phone. My fingers gripped it tighter. “Come now, Gabriella. We’ve known of each other for too long to be so formal, and hopefully will know each other better soon.” A cold, slick feeling slid down my spine. I stayed silent, letting that speak for itself when he smoothly said, “I would like to see you for
dinner tonight.”
I jerked back in my chair. “Tonight?” A quick scan of my body proved I wasn’t dressed in anything nearly suitable enough for dinner. I was certain my hair was bedraggled after running my fingers through it all day.
“No time like the present to discuss our arrangement, I believe.”
Arrangement. I scowled at the word and thank goodness no one saw me do it, especially him. Malik Rilotti was a man I knew only in name and through brief introductions. At fifteen years my senior, and a widower for the last several years, I couldn’t imagine we would have anything in common. Reminding myself that this was for my mother, for appearance, and simply for one meeting and not an arrangement, as he seemed to think, I forced down my unwanted feelings and played my role.
“Certainly, Mr….Malik. Dinner tonight will be lovely. Where would you like to meet?”
“A man doesn’t meet a woman for an evening out, Gabriella. I will pick you up at your hotel at six thirty.”
At least he had some manners. I wanted to argue with him, but knew it would be pointless. “I look forward to seeing you,” I said through a fake smile.
I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. Then I wished I could tell my mom and dad to take a hike and that there was no way in hell was I helping them further their empire. But I couldn’t bear to see my mother’s expression without giving her request a chance, even if it held the same odds as a snowball surviving in hell.
“Don’t be late,” he said in a clipped tone, and then he was gone.
So much for manners. I frowned at my phone.
I flipped through my contacts until I found Tyson’s number in my phone, smiling when I saw the name Blackbird, and hit the green call button. It rang four times before I heard his rich voice in his voicemail greeting, telling me he couldn’t come to the phone and he’d return any messages as promptly as possible. He was formal on the phone, and my smile grew as he continued speaking, but I hung up without leaving a message.