by J. A. Coffey
Something flashed across his expression, something vague, but Darius lowered his gaze and answered, "Every girl I've ever dated."
It felt like a karate chop to the chest. For a second she couldn't breathe. "Every?"
The harshness in Darius' eyes softened, and he stood before her and claimed her hands gently in his. "Perhaps I should amend my words to say that every girl I've ever dated looks like you." Honesty shone in his features, and he crooked a smile at her. "What can I say? You made quite the impression on me."
Cute looks weren't going to work on Jess right now, though. "She said I look like someone. Was this someone you brought here?" She looked around, trying to imagine another Jess lying on the couch, watching TV, taking off her clothes for Darius....
"No, never." He guided her outside, where David the gardener buried himself in a hedge to yank weeds. Darius pulled her out of his range of hearing. "I never brought any girls here. There was once, a couple of years ago, when I was competing in Germany, that Uncle Ollie and Clarisse came to watch me. Kimi and Rafe- Ollie's valet- both attended."
He guided her to a weathered bench near the overgrown rose garden and bade her sit. "I was dating this girl, Hetty, and she was nice, but so painfully quiet that I had a hard time getting to know her. But she was from old money, and my father was really pushing me at the time to get married. So I stayed with her for a while."
Jess felt her throat tighten a bit as she imagined Darius kissing a strawberry blonde about her height. "Did you sleep with her?"
She felt him pause for a second. "We were intimate, yes."
Jess dug her fingernail into a groove on the bench to avoid his all-knowing gaze. "Did you sleep with all of them?"
She heard Darius take a deep breath and sit beside her, and he gathered her hands in his. "It's not like there were hundreds, Jess. With the way I travel, there were only a handful of women I dated, but to answer your question, yes. I had."
God, her throat kept getting tighter and tighter the longer this day wore on. "Because they looked like me?" God, why the hell wouldn't he sleep with her? She was the original, right here before him, ready and willing.
He took another deep breath and leaned back on the bench. "Jess, it's not like I cheated on you. Hetty was my type."
She felt her face grow warm with her anger, and her jaw set. "This has nothing to do with cheating."
"Then what is it?"
"It's about dating girls who look like me." God, the truth shouldn't hurt this much, but it did.
"You are my type." He faced her more fully. "Jess, you're the only one I've ever wanted."
"Really." She got up, leveled him a glare, and said, "Because I don't feel very wanted from where I'm standing."
"Then get back down here." He got up and pulled her back to the bench, ruining her rant before she could start. "Of course I want you." He drew her close and nuzzled her cheek, placing light kisses on her throat. His fingers dragged up her leg, under her shirt, and a gush of fluid raced from her when he cupped her bra, then wiggled his fingers underneath to play with her nipple.
She wanted to be made love to, to have him inside her, loving her the way she instinctively knew he would. She wanted to ask him why he avoided her, why he refused her, but the way his fingers worked magic on her skin right now made her hopeful of a different outcome.
When he drew her flush to his chest, sucking on her neck as he moaned her name, Jess lost all inclination to ask why he refused her abed.
Perhaps right now would be the end of the waiting.
However, she no sooner thought it than Darius pulled away, their lips making a soft sound in the still air. He flopped back against the bench to stare at the late afternoon sky, and she could tell by the lurch in his jeans he had been equally affected.
So what the hell was stopping him?
Tonight.
She was just going to have to find out.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
From somewhere in the darkest corner of the house, Jess heard the chimes of the German grandfather clock gong once, marking the half hour after 11 p.m. Darius had kissed her goodnight at her bedroom door over an hour ago, and the expression she read on his face was that of anguish. He had lingered, gazing longingly at her bed, then gave her a firm, fast kiss and ducked into his room.
She had gained a moment of confidence with that.
If she tried hard enough, she hoped to reconnect with that shy virgin- was it merely last week?- who had invited Darius to spend the night. That girl had been fearless. Mostly.
She tried not to recall how Darius had spurned her even during her boldest moment.
Tonight- based on that last kiss- was about turning the tides.
These thoughts she clung to as she rallied her shaken confidence, finding the energy to stand up and leave her bed. Momentum carried her to her dresser, where she undressed and pulled one of the giant t-shirts Darius had given her over her head for a nightshirt. Before she over-thought her actions, she tugged off her panties.
She didn't know how long she stood at her door, knob in hand, but she guessed ten minutes had passed and the handle had only moved one-quarter turn. No sounds carried from the hall; if there were any, she wouldn't have heard them over the pounding in her ears anyway.
She knew some of the staff would be living here. Bigsby was one, and she thought Cookie was another, but she had no idea of the rest of them. What if Kimi saw her sneaking into Darius' bedroom?
Part of her tut-tutted the thought, since Darius had asked her to move in and therefore it shouldn't matter, but to someone unaccustomed to sneaking into a man's room, the thought felt rather disconcerting.
Another gong, and then eleven more followed. "This is ridiculous." She pulled open her door, tiptoed down the hallway, and slipped into Darius' room before the final chimes died down.
No light filtered in, and she was unsure of the placement of his furniture, and her heart yammered so loudly in her head she figured that would rouse him- that, or her fast breathing. But his came slow and steady in the quiet room, and she oriented on the sound. She whispered, "Darius."
Okay, even Jess couldn't hear her own voice. She tried again with, "It's Jess."
He made no indication of hearing her or waking, so she inched forward.
She could barely make out his shape, the only light being that from his digital clock. 12:13. Forty-three minutes to open two unlocked doors.
Pathetic.
She grabbed her hem, paused, then eased the t-shirt over her head. She tiptoed nearer and repeated, "Dar, it's Jess."
By the wan light she could tell he faced away from her, so she eased up the covers and slipped into the warm sheets, hoping he didn't wake up and go all Hong Kong Phooey on her the way Jeremy foretold.
A deep breath and shoulder shrug were the only responses from Darius as she eased her way into his bed. Emboldened, Jess reached out and stroked his shoulder, then caressed his back with her fingertips.
She loved the feel of his skin; it was smooth and firm and hot, and each muscle rippled underneath her touch. She leaned forward to kiss his shoulder, then ran her fingers down his arm and ribs.
He inhaled a soothing breath, almost a purr. The depth of his breathing made her smile and she continued stroking him. She wanted him to feel as languorous as he made her feel. She wanted him to be relaxed and comfortable and, hopefully, aroused by the time he woke up.
A low moan rewarded her efforts, and she heard a change in his breathing. She stroked along his side, his thighs, then moved down to drag her fingernails along his buttocks.
She felt him clench, and wondered if that meant something.
Her nipples felt cold, and a wave of chicken-skin washed over her. Jess inched closer to spoon him, and her breasts felt electrified from his body heat. She felt his buttocks clench again, and she knew it was now or never. She reached around his stomach for her prize.
Jackpot.
He was rock hard.
And as Jess stroke
d him the way he had taught her, she felt him thrust into her hand. She grinned. He was hard, she was naked in his bed, and all she had to do was get him inside her.
Jess gasped when she realized she had absolutely no idea how to get tab A into slot B.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Dreams of angels could not possibly be any more magical than the feeling of bliss that Darius experienced, for he was sure an angel must be the one making him feel so relaxed and loved.
And horny.
Damn, he was horny.
The angel's hair flowed around her head in a golden glow, and large curls of strawberry highlights fanned a face he thought should have glasses.
The angel soon morphed into Jess, and he felt her hot kisses sear his flesh wherever they landed.
Something pushed him to his back, and the dream angel's lips began sucking on his chest.
A firm hand squeezed his shaft, and the tugging on his nipple roused him from sleep.
A cloud of golden hair covered him, emanating from the woman whose lips were migrating down...down....
Hoe. Lee. Chit.
He raised his head in alarm. "Jess?"
He felt her lips curve into a smile against his naval, where she had paused. "Yes?"
Jess was seducing him. He fell back to his pillow, heart racing. When he went to draw her away from his penis- not that he wanted to- he touched only the skin of her back.
Jess was naked.
In his bed.
Seducing him.
Shit.
He shifted away from her, but in a playful tone asked, "Whacha doing?"
She squeezed him, then stroked up and down along his shaft with the precise amount of pressure he had shown her. Damn, the girl learned fast.
She looked up at him and said, "You had all the imitations. Thought you would want the original in your bed for a change."
So that was what this was all about. He caught her in his arms and dragged her across his chest, his heart racing so fast he felt like a marathon runner. He angled her away from his groin, not needing any more temptation but unable to refuse his desire to hold her. He kissed her hard, dragging her over and across him even further until she lay on his opposite side, where he covered her and held her still.
After a few moments of kissing her, she broke off and said, "Darius, I want you to make love to me."
Damn, he didn't want to tell her his plans. Not yet. Not like this. But her eyes were wide and her breasts mashed into his chest with such zeal that he felt obligated to pay them further attention. He lowered his lips to her pebbled nipples and replied, "Oh, is that why you're here?" Before she could respond, he drew her breast deep into his mouth, sucking until he heard the catch of her breath.
"Darius...."
He needed to keep her from talking, from asking questions he couldn't yet answer. So he slid his finger along her cleft and stroked her with the firm pressure that had brought her to her release last time.
The plain truth of the matter was he wanted her to be his virgin bride. He always liked the idea of waiting until marriage, but after being torn from Jess, he had abandoned the thought as fancy and had taken advantage of opportunity when it presented itself. But now, knowing her status, he was determined to save her for their wedding night.
Easier said than done.
He'd never been with a virgin, and the notion of them both having a new experience on their wedding night pleased him tremendously. She was no longer innocent of his touch, and he knew he had brought her to orgasm, but that didn't mean he had to rupture her.
He wanted them to be new to each other.
He wanted-
"Darius, I want you to make love to me."
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He wasn't ready to tell her. "I am making love to you."
"No." She rolled to face him. "You're not. You're only fondling me."
He grinned. "It's called foreplay."
He sensed her wavering along with her voice. "We've had days and days of foreplay. Jeremy said if you really wanted me, you'd go in me. You're not. It's time for the main act."
He bit his lip, then lowered his head to lave her nipple. She would not leave this alone, and damn Jeremy for putting this thought in her head. "I'm working up to it." He wasn't sure how much longer he could stall, especially if Jeremy was playing her goddamned Fairy Godmother slash Devil's Advocate.
He heard her breathing come faster, and he thought her arousal was the driving factor until he heard a shaky breath accompany it. "Jess?"
She sniffled and turned her face away.
"Jess?"
He felt her body hitch when she swallowed, and realized he had made her cry.
Again.
"Why don't you want me, Darius?" She faced him, and her tears glistened in the red light of his alarm clock. "You have the original Jessalyn in your bed, not an imitation. If you really always wanted me, why won't you make love to me?"
He dropped his forehead to her chest, bending down to kiss the swell of her breasts. Anger fueled his words, and he grabbed her hand and wrapped it around his shaft. "Feel this? Never think for a moment I don't want you, Jess. I've been this hard for you since the day I walked into your store. It's painful, being this aroused."
"So why don't you-"
He placed one finger across her lips. "Twenty-four hours, Jess. That's all I need. Twenty-four hours." He kissed her lips and pulled back to study her. "Can you give me that much time? One day? Just one day without asking me questions that I just don't have a ready answer for. Will you do that for me? Please?"
He watched her throat bob as she swallowed, her eyes luminescent in the wan light. She wobbled a nod, and Darius felt like a heel for hurting her feelings.
"I promise you, I will tell you everything as soon as I have all my ducks in a row. I promise. Twenty-four hours."
He feared it would be a day of torture and hell.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Today would be the day. At least, the first day that would lead up to the Big Day, which needed to be soon. Darius didn't think he could control himself much longer in Jess' presence.
Leave it to Jeremy to convince a virgin to seduce him. His body still thrilled with the remnants of her touch and God help him, he didn't know if he wanted to kiss or kill that man.
Either option held merit.
Jess remained blissfully asleep; he'd made damn sure of that, much to his hormonal chagrin. He gathered up his laptop on the desk and brought it to her room, where he knew her desk remained vacant. As he went to sit, he noticed his photo album resting on her desk, the one he'd brought with him to the restaurant. He stared at it for a moment, wondering how Jess felt as she traveled the memories of his life.
Had she been tallying up the net worth of each piece in every picture? Or had she seen them as he did- integral parts of his childhood?
His fingers rested on the cover, ready to flip it open and see his life through her point of view. He stayed that way, cover opened nary an inch, just enough to see the bottom corner of one picture.
What if he lost every piece of furniture in this house? This desk? This chair? He cast his gaze around the room, trying to imagine something, anything, other than the 1850s rosewood bed and nightstand and the leggy pediment-topped highboy that had towered over the door for two generations.
He heard the whirring of his laptop as the fan engaged, and let his fingers fall from the album.
With a deep breath he hopped online to learn more about the empty car dealership, then called the listed Realtor.
He heard a woman's husky voice answer, and he decided she should cut down on the cigarettes. "I'd like to know if an available agent can take me through the empty car dealership that's listed, this morning, if possible, please."
He waited while she put him on hold, then she came back a few moments later and said, "Bob can meet you there in a half hour, if that works for you."
"That would be perfect, thank you."
> "Your name, sir?"
"Darius. And thank you. I appreciate it." He hung up and got dressed. Once downstairs, he rapped on Bigsby's door.
Darius withheld a grin at the thought that Bigsby never smiled, regardless of hour, unless Jess mooned up at him. "Bigbsy, I am running errands. Please let Jess know that I will be home as soon as my ducks are in a row. She should understand what I mean."
The old butler bowed his head. "As you wish. Fare thee well."
Darius smiled, remembering that Bigsby always used to tell him that as a child when he would have to go back to London.
Bob Walker was an older, affable man in a blue shirt and baggy khakis, and Darius greeted the man with a firm handshake outside the store front. "Looking to sell cars?" he asked.
"Not at all," Darius answered as they entered through the glass doors. It had the smell of a place that had been undisturbed for awhile, the way Ollie's place had the first time he walked in. But no mold or mildew odors lingered, no smells of anything rotting filled the air. The spacious interior, he thought, would be perfect for the sparring court. The back areas on the outer walls could be blocked off into separate rooms for classes. New carpeting covered the floor. He could find no signs of water damage or leaking on the ceilings or along any wall.
He liked the high decorated ceilings. A few red columns with gold Asian dragons would look nice, he thought. The sides, near the lucky ba gua shaped front windows, were long enough to hold bleachers for spectators.
A fish tank or two would delineate the front public section from the classes in back. He thought a pair of one hundred fifty gallon tanks would look nice- one with salt water fish, one with Japanese koi.
A lunch room of modest size and three management offices were nicely situated. He realized two by fours and drywall could solve most layout problems, but he liked their spacing already. He wandered around the biggest office, peered out the window to an expansive field beyond.
The Realtor cleared his throat. "Mind if I ask what you'd do with the place?"
He could take on a partner.
Fabrizi had been begging Darius to open a dojo in America for four years now.