Carmen wanted to believe, but it was so hard.
She studied his handsome face, and every part of her being craved him, longed to be held in his arms forever.
“What do I have to do to prove I will be there for you?”
“You can’t always be there for me. Nobody can. That’s what life has taught me.” The ache in her heart tugged down into the pit of her stomach. Loss was too hard; she didn’t want to open herself up to it again, and especially not with Rex, the only man she had ever loved.
“And what if I say different? What if I think we can do this?” The look in his eyes begged her to trust him.
“Do you really believe it?” It was still too hard for her, the impossible dream that she’d tutored herself to dismiss.
“I do.” He drew away, went for his back pocket. “There’s something I need to show you.” From his wallet, he pulled a folded page and opened it. “I found it, well, Mrs. Amery did, and she gave it to me.” He handed it to her. “It’s written by my dad, maybe a year or two ago. It was after you left, for sure. He never sent it, but it’s an apology of sorts. To us both.”
Carmen stared down at the page. The handwriting was instantly familiar because she’d often exchanged letters with Charles Carruthers. Once she moved out, it was how they stayed in touch. He was old-fashioned and didn’t own a computer or do email or texts.
In fact, the familiarity made her smile.
Once she began to read, the tone of the note stripped that smile away, fast. It was a familiar voice, but it was so sad and filled with regret that it killed her to read it. When she got to the end, Carmen dropped the letter in her lap and covered her eyes with her hands.
She tried not to let it happen, but a sob broke loose.
“Hey.” Rex reached out for her.
She shook her hair back, trying to get a grip. “I’m sorry. He just sounds so lonely here.” It was hard to witness Charles’s words, because she’d felt that way, too. Rex did this to people. “He wanted you back.”
“That wasn’t going to happen.”
She understood why, but it sounded so harsh. She blubbed again.
“Carmen, please don’t cry, love.” He wiped her cheek. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe it would have happened if he’d actually sent it. But he didn’t send it. However, he did do something—he gave us this time together to make amends. He led us back to each other.”
Carmen looked at him, wiping her eyes as she did so, trying to understand.
“Do you see? He brought us together, by the terms of his will. I figured that, for him, it was the only way he could really apologize.”
Carmen listened, and read the letter again. “I suppose it could be true.” It was a grand gesture, all right, if it were true. She looked at him. “Did it change the way you felt about our situation?”
“About you? No. I already wanted more than what we’d agreed.”
She stared at him, afraid to say anything, afraid to acknowledge what he seemed to be saying in case she was wrong.
When she didn’t respond, he scrubbed his hair with his hand. “I guess it made me feel a bit differently about the old man.”
She was going to say that was good, but he looked so disconcerted she just let it float. How strange it was. Minutes earlier she’d been laughing, and now she felt like an emotional wreck. This week of all weeks, this emotional roller coaster had to happen.
It was the anniversary of her mother’s death the next day, and that was preying on her mind, too. Weary and vulnerable, she glanced away, suddenly wanting to be alone. “I was going to take a bath tonight, to chill out.”
“We can do that.”
“Not we. Me.”
He stood up and lifted her in his arms, carrying her again. “I’m not going to let you run away and hide. I know you, you’ll go off and brood and make up some daft reason why we can’t be together.”
Was that true? Is that what I would do? She fought it for a moment, then the feeling of being held in his arms won her over. She clung to him, looped her arms around the back of his neck and meshed her fingers together there.
He carried her into the bathroom, carefully easing her through the doorway. He stood her on the bath mat and undressed her. Within moments the bath tap was running and he poured bubble bath liberally into the tub. With consummate care he lifted her and eased her into the warm water, keeping his arms around her.
Carmen dissolved.
Lowering to his knees beside the bath, he began to lap the warm water over her upper body.
She got dangerously near tears again, but he smiled her way and it touched her. “I feel pampered.”
“Good.” He cleared the bubbles here and there with his hand as if to see her better, then he reached for a sponge and soaped it.
He moved the sudsy sponge over her skin, taking his time to wash her.
Carmen’s emotions leveled as he paid such close attention to her. The way he looked at her with those intense blue eyes of his made her ache for him. She was glad he hadn’t let her bathe alone.
With each sweep of the sponge over her skin, she mellowed.
When she rested her head back, he set aside the sponge and massaged her shoulders, shedding more of her tension.
She sighed. “Mmm, you’re good at this.”
“I aim to please.” He smiled and stroked his hands over her breasts.
When she moaned softly in response, he brushed his thumbs over her nipples. She gripped the sides of the bath while her desire for him flared with each suggestive touch against her sensitive skin.
Their eyes locked and he rested his fingers against her pussy, paddling beneath the water. She moaned again and he eased one finger into the groove of her sex, rubbing over her clit.
“Feeling better?”
She could barely speak because his touch was so direct. “You know I am.”
“Just want to be sure.” He smiled, and continued to work her, pushing one finger inside while he rocked the heel of his hand over her clit. “Looks good,” he added.
She wanted him to want her. Latching one foot over the edge of the bath she opened her legs.
“Lovely.”
The improved access meant she was closing on orgasm, quickly.
“Rex,” she whispered when it hit, and she clung to his arm with both hands, the water splashing up around her.
He pulled the plug.
“I’m taking you to bed now.” It was softly said, but there was tautness in his posture, and she knew what he wanted.
He wrapped her in a fluffy towel and rubbed her down, then carried her to the bed.
Carmen watched him strip. His cock bounced free as he shucked off his jockey shorts. He went straight for a condom, and when it was on he climbed over her, lifting her legs apart as he did so.
Carmen’s heart raced. He was so sure, so strong, and she wanted him.
He paused and stared down at her.
She took in the image of his handsome face, the chiseled cheekbones and heavy slash of eyebrows. She breathed him in, the musk of his body filling her senses. The powerful shape of his muscled chest lured her and she stroked it with her hands, then kissed his breastbone.
Rex shifted, opened her up with his fingers, then thrust his cock deep inside her, claiming her.
“Want you so badly.” His voice was husky, and the muscles in his neck corded.
Carmen’s breath caught in her throat, her back arched as her hips rolled to meet his thrusts.
His gaze urged her on. “Why would either of us want this to end?”
Her body rode up on his vigorous thrusts, her every intimate place alight from the skin-to-skin contact and the intimacy in his words and his touches. She nodded, her arms tangling around his neck.
Rex groaned in res
ponse and his cock grew ever more rigid. He kissed her, holding her as only he could, his cock buried deep inside her where she craved him, where she would always crave him and him alone.
Breathless, mindless, she latched her hands over his shoulders as her body rolled to meet his each and every thrust.
His hands moved under her, as if he couldn’t get close enough.
Her nipples flamed, the brush of his chest needling her from breasts to thigh and everywhere in between.
“Going to come,” he murmured, kissing her face frantically.
Carmen shuddered. She was close, too. His cock stiffened, jerked hard, and again. Her body clasped it and he stayed with her, urging her to come.
When she did, a sob broke in her throat.
Pleasure rolled through her, wave after wave, and she clung to him. Only when she finally stilled did he slip from her, and when he did, she found herself wrapped in his arms again moments later.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“THIS FEELS FAR too much like camping to me,” Carmen stated.
“You don’t enjoy camping?” Rex grinned at her, glad that they were at ease with each other again.
She stood with one hip up against the breakfast bar in their rented apartment, eating the wrap he’d picked up from a nearby takeout.
It was Friday and Rex had woken with work nudging into his thoughts. Specifically, the meeting the Slipstream team had with Nikhil Rashid that day, but once Carmen moved in his arms his attention was all hers.
She was looking at him differently today. There was still wariness there in her eyes, but she was more like the old Carmen, more open. Curious. Last night had been tough on them both, but Rex felt they’d come to an understanding. All week long she’d kept telling him that she disapproved of this setup and they should go to her place, but he was determined to stick to his guns until he heard back from Jacobson, at the very least. He was taking no risks whatsoever. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to take her to the manor for the weekend, not until Jacobson had cleared his doubts. Jacobson’s men had been there the day before, and he was expecting a report.
He removed the lids from the take-out coffee cups, set one down next to her and then tucked into his own wrap.
“I’m woman enough to admit camping is not for me,” she said, amused. “I like my home comforts.”
“I never would have guessed.” Rex took a sip of his coffee and admired her. She was wearing a business suit for work, and although it was very simple, she still managed to make it look elegant and feminine.
“Are you suggesting that I couldn’t actually cope with camping?” Her eyes twinkled.
That was so good to see. “I daresay you could do anything you put your mind to. I’ll be honest, even though the idea of you crawling around on your hands and knees in a tent appeals to my base nature, I’d rather see you on your knees in Burlington Manor.”
“You’re so bad, making me think about that right now while I’m trying to get ready for the day ahead.” The look in her eyes was mellow and inviting.
“My task is to have you think about it all the time, especially because I can see you like the idea.”
Carmen put down the remains of her breakfast wrap and picked up her coffee, looking at him from under hooded lids as she sipped it.
They’d got past something the night before, and this was the easiest they’d been around each other. She hadn’t exactly agreed to his suggestion of seeing each other as a more permanent arrangement, but she also hadn’t outlawed it completely.
Rex was determined to make it work. He couldn’t have it any other way; he needed this woman. Part of him had always known that, but he hadn’t realized how deeply it ran and that it wouldn’t just evaporate after they’d addressed the attraction between them. No, this felt different.
“Have you got a busy day today?”
“I’m glad you brought that up.” Her expression grew serious. “I have a meeting first thing, but I was wondering if you could maybe finish early today?” She asked the question tentatively.
“If I could I’d cancel the whole day to be with you, but we have an important pitch with a key client later this morning. I expect it to run until after lunchtime, but I’m sure I can finish up by three and be back to collect you from work by four.”
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. She seemed wrapped in her own thoughts.
Rex felt uneasy. It was odd, because this was the closest they’d managed to get. But there still seemed to be obstacles that he couldn’t shift, barriers he couldn’t even discern.
How could he prove his loyalty to her?
Grand gestures, that’s what men did at times like this. Flowers and chocolates and gifts and stuff. Apart from the dress he’d bought her in Milan—which had made her wary about his motives, and she hadn’t been sure about accepting it as a result—perhaps he hadn’t demonstrated his intentions to her in the correct way. Was that the missing element?
There was no denying that the sexual dynamic between them was powerful. He’d told her he wanted to be with her, but it wasn’t enough.
While they made their way into the underground car park, Rex pondered it. He had time to think about it because Carmen was the quietest she’d been all week. He’d got rather used to her berating him for escorting her like a child who needed to be taken to school. Instead, she switched the radio on to the classical station. The music was calming despite the London traffic and freed up his thoughts. Carmen was wise, she was sensible. Left to his own devices he’d have the city radio station on with all the bad news and traffic reports he didn’t need as well as the stuff he did.
I need someone like that in my life, an anchor.
Perhaps it was the fact she wasn’t speaking to him, perhaps it was where his thoughts were going, but he felt unreasonably possessive about her. It had begun to irritate him that their relationship wasn’t more simple. With her accident on the stairs and his near-miss, he felt pressure all around, the pressure of unanswered questions. The issue of ownership and the manor was also complicating what might otherwise have been an uncomplicated reunion. Brooding, he remembered the staircase, the bunched carpet and how it had made him feel. He resented the manor, hated it for doing that her, hated it for tearing them apart all those years ago. But if it hadn’t been for the house and the contents of the will, would they have had this opportunity to be together?
The sound of a horn blaring snapped him into the reality of the moment. He slammed on the brakes.
“Rex!”
Her voice reached him. His hand instinctively went to hers while he scoped the situation. Someone had been trying to pull out on the opposite side of the road. The car on the nearside had stopped to let them out, but Rex hadn’t seen it. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
A black London city cab pulled out from behind them, blaring its horn, apparently aggrieved at the momentary pause.
“And the same to you, as well,” Carmen shouted in the direction of the taxi.
Rex laughed. Shifting the gear stick, he signaled, indicating his intention to move on for the benefit of the car behind. It was the usual rush-hour commuter chaos, but the way Carmen had looked at him with concern and then shouted at the cab made him relax a bit.
Minutes later he pulled the car up at the curb outside Objet d’Art. He turned and cupped her face, kissing her gently. “I’ll call you as soon as I get out of my meeting.”
“I hope it goes well,” she responded.
Rex left the car and walked to the main doors where the security guard watched on, giving him some level of reassurance.
Amateurs, he reminded himself, they are amateurs. Maybe it was just a coincidence. He was determined to be sure before he let her go about her normal routine without precautions.
Once she was inside the
building Carmen turned and waved, and she smiled fondly at him. It triggered something, that wave goodbye, and a notion struck him. A weekend away, away from Burlington and away from London, completely freed from their lives and the fear of a mystery stalker. Somewhere romantic, he thought as he strode back to his car.
Climbing into the driver’s seat, he pulled on his seat belt and signaled.
Paris, the weekend in Paris. Yes. He had time to book them something before he left for the meeting. If he picked Carmen up at four, they could fly out of Heathrow by eight, away from the difficulties that had made the past week so fraught. “And whoever the hell these amateurs are, they won’t have a bloody clue where we are.” That was the seal on the deal.
He kept an eye on the clock. He had to do a last run-through of the presentation with the guys before they left, and the drive out of the city to Rashid’s venue outside of Oxford would take a good hour. The presentation involved them all, as did the creation of carefully designed and built Slipstream parts. He’d only have twenty minutes free, tops, but it was enough to get flights and a hotel booked. If he was collecting Carmen at four that would give them time to go get their passports and grab a few things. Anything else they needed they could pick up along the way. Satisfied, he concentrated on the important day ahead.
* * *
NIKHIL RASHID WAS an elegant Asian gentleman who exuded calm, style and efficiency. He also didn’t give a lot away. Their presentation had gone well and now they were all gathered, Bertha’s engine purring, while Ayo sat in the driver’s seat running the demo car through its paces.
Rex attempted to stand back at this point, let the designs speak for themselves. Instead, he looked around. Nikhil Rashid was an interesting man. He had a home in Oxford, but he’d bought a field in the countryside and built his business site there. That meant they had room for their own racetrack. A clever move. He tried to gauge Rashid’s response. He wore sunglasses the whole time, which didn’t help, and his goatee beard also seemed to disguise his responses. “Have you got any other designers to meet with, Mr. Rashid?”
The Burlington Manor Affair Page 25