Ali lifts up onto her toes so our eyes are even as she listens. She looks into my soul, and I let her. I know that right now, she’s giving herself to me. That I’m doing the same. She’s mine and I’m hers, and I trail off because nothing else matters anymore. Nothing except her.
She feels it, too. She smiles, and then we’re just smiling at each other, a pair of fools, until she laughs.
“Hi, lovely,” she says, and then she kisses me.
I turn into raw need. I pull her into my arms and kiss her back. Her mouth opens to mine, so willing and hungry. She presses her breasts against me and my hands are all over her.
“Yes,” she breathes.
My desire shifts into high gear and I’m blinded to everything that’s not her. The need to be buried deep between her legs is the only thing. I’ve wanted this so long. “Alison, I want to do this slowly, but—”
“Let’s do slowly later,” she says.
Chapter 43
Alison
Adam smiles, and every last bit of me melts. He firms his hands under me and pulls me even tighter against him. He’s so hard it makes me gasp, my body instantly reduced to one pulse point, a sharp ache where our bodies join.
“I don’t know if I can make it to the bedroom,” he says.
“I’m not picky.”
He laughs, but still he carries me through the living room, down a short hallway to a master suite with glossy cocoa-colored walls, slate-blue accents, and a modern leather chair by a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the ocean. The space is sleek and luxurious—so perfectly Adam that it’s like I’ve been here already. Like it’s home.
His tongue teases my mouth, and I squeeze his waist with my thighs, grip his hair to pull him closer, as close as I can get him. We tumble onto the bed together, still kissing but laughing too, trying to find our way up the bed without breaking our kiss, without our hands having to do anything but touch each other’s bodies.
He pushes my skirt up my thighs, presses himself against me, coarse twill against silk. I arch up to him, and we rock there, mouths crashing together, and already I feel that dizzying, cresting feeling. My body wants to climb toward that place, toward that bright undoing, and I want it but I also want to ride this, to make it last forever.
Easing off me, he slides off the end of the bed and stands there, facing me.
“Come here.” His eyes shine. His mouth looks moist and bruised from our kissing. Leaning forward, he slips his hands beneath me and tugs me toward the edge of the bed, until I’m at the very end, legs dangling off so my toes scrape the wood floor.
“I’m glad you’re not in your Catwoman costume,” he says, grinning. “Or in scuba gear. Or a snow suit.” Reaching beneath my skirt, he pulls down my panties, his fingers skimming over me, heat against heat.
“I’m . . . glad . . . too.”
He parts my thighs, looking at me with so much desire, such intense focus that my body starts to tremble.
“I thought you didn’t want to go slow,” I protest.
His hands brush over my breasts, squeezing them, tempting the nipples with his firm agile fingers, then trail over my belly, down along my legs. And then he moves to kneel at the edge of the bed.
“Adam—”
“I have to taste you.”
Just the words make me moan. I don’t know if I can take more than that. Take his mouth on me, his fingers. I want him against me. In me. Waiting, even for this, feels like torture.
I start to protest, but I feel the heat of his breath against me, feel him move my legs up to cross against his back. His head dips down, and I miss his face, miss looking into his beautiful raincloud-gray eyes. I haven’t had my fill of that yet. I know I never will.
He presses his mouth against me, his hands moving over me, fingers and darting tongue and heat like I’ve never felt, like I’m burning from the inside, my entire body a scalding fever. I give myself to it, arching up to him, body rocking like a wave, like the ocean flowing and receding. It’s never been like this. I’ve never felt like this, pulled to this aching, yearning center. Never felt like a prism, sparking light in all directions.
I’m close . . . so close, but I want more. I want him. I breathe his name, and somehow he knows. Or he wants it for himself. He rises and strips off his shirt, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of him, standing there. I start to rise, hungry to touch him, to feel the amazing strength of his muscles, to trail my hands, my tongue over the channels of his tapered abs.
But he pushes me gently back onto the bed and unbuckles his belt, eyes fixed on mine, pinning me in place. He sheds his pants and briefs, and stands there with that smile that undoes me—with his incredible body on display.
“You’re amazing,” I tell him, and he is. He’s more than I could have imagined, and I’ve imagined him many times.
“That’s you,” he says. He gets a condom from the nightstand and hands it to me to slip onto him. I do, looking up into his eyes, and then he slides over me, pressing against me, warm and hard and so perfect. All of me opens to him. Every part of me wants to enfold every part of him.
Adam slips himself into me slowly and then with a final motion that makes us both gasp. I close my eyes, giving myself over to the feeling of it, to the ebb and flow of our bodies, his hands brushing my hair back from my face, the feeling of his mouth closing over my nipples, sucking one then the other between his teeth.
Fierce darts of pleasure shoot through me. My breath comes in shallow gasps, and I cross my legs around his back again, pulling him to me, needing him to be closer than my own skin. He moves up, intensifying his movements, looking down at me, at the place where our bodies intersect.
I slip my hand there, to the place where we join, and the feeling breaks me. It’s not a climb this time, but a sudden, shocking pulse that ripples through me, growing deeper and deeper, consuming me until it’s everything, until I’m crying out from the pleasure of it, wave after wave pouring through me, deeper than anything I’ve ever felt. It takes me, sweeping me along, and I hear myself say Adam’s name over and over, hear Adam’s panting breathing until it’s everything, until his voice is the air I breathe.
His strong hands brace my hips, holding on, moving intensely now, with a purpose that drives me, that makes me shudder. We rock together, on and on, until his breaths become groans, until his body trembles wildly against mine, fierce and insistent, until he shudders hard against me.
We still, and I lie there, letting my heart rate slow, letting myself come fully back to my body.
I rise up to kiss him, to run my lips over the sheen of perspiration on his chest, to breathe him in, feel the life of him still pulsing within me. He kisses me back hard, and then we move up to stretch out on the bed.
He lies there, a wide grin on his face. And then he laughs.
I nip his shoulder. “What’s so funny?” I ask.
“When you take over Boomerang,” he says. “You’re definitely going to have to kill that no-dating policy.”
“That’s not going to happen, Adam. I promise.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says and pulls me into his arms. “Only this does. Only you.”
Chapter 44
Adam
I lean up on my arm and stare at Ali who’s, unsurprisingly, monopolizing the bed, and brush the back of my fingers along her shoulder.
She stirs awake. “Hi,” she says, smiling.
“Hey, beautiful.”
Her eyes darken—reflecting the need she must see on my face. I run my hands down her body and love the way she watches me, surrenders to me. I could explore her forever, and I tell her that between kisses. How I can’t get enough of her. It’s been a night of this, our bodies always connected. Over and over, we’ve driven each other over the edge, but we’re both still starving. We can’t get enough of each other.
“Adam, please,” she says, taking me into her hand and guiding me home. She’s ready for me, warm silk, and as I sin
k deep inside her, as she arches her back like even this closeness, us joined together, isn’t enough, I don’t see how that could ever change. When she shudders in my arms, my name on her lips, nothing else compares. Nothing in the world has ever felt this good or this right.
Eventually, we make it into the shower together. I notice she’s not wearing her “A” earrings.
“Ali,” I say, rubbing my thumb over her earlobe. I can’t stop looking deep into her eyes now. They’re so pretty. They’re so gentle and intelligent and . . . good. “Did you lose them?”
“No.” She shakes her head and her smile fades. “They were a gift from my father.” The finger that’s been tracing the lines of my tattoo stills. “He gave them to me after . . . after I caught him. And I just can’t wear them anymore.”
I’m already thinking about buying her new ones. Better ones. More carats. Maybe spell her entire name out in fat diamonds. Or maybe a horse, because I know that would make her happier. Yeah, I’m buying her a horse. The best one I can find.
“About today, Adam,” she says. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about before the party.”
That reminds me. It was close to one in the afternoon when we got in the shower and the party starts at two—which means my employees will probably be knocking on my door any minute.
“Can it wait? Because we only have a little while, and there are other issues I’d like to attend to first.”
Ali smiles. “Ah, yes. Pressing issues.” She wraps her arms around my neck, bringing her sleek, perfect body to mine. “Okay. Let’s address those first.”
Ali takes my car to drive home. Her hair is tied in a damp knot on top of her head, in her red dress, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything hotter than that—then her smiling at me from inside my Bugatti as she carefully backs out of my driveway.
“Come on, Quick!” I shout. “Let’s see what you got!”
She laughs and rolls her eyes at me, and makes the most adorably slow trip up my street, using the turn signal and everything as she disappears around the corner.
Jesus. I’ve got it bad.
I shave and pull on some sand-colored jeans and a button-down. I find myself rushing, and I realize it’s because I want to get back to her.
The doorbell rings. When I answer, my quiet street resembles a busy parking lot. Rhett smiles at me. Pippa, Paolo, Sadie. Mia and Ethan. Brooks and Cookie. The guys from accounting. My entire IT department. Everyone’s congregating on my driveway.
My eyes travel to my brother, who’s next to Brooks. Grey was supposed to be in San Diego for his gig.
“Brooks texted me this morning,” Grey says, shrugging, like it’s no big deal that he’s missing something I know he was excited about. “I wanted to see this.”
This—which is the crystal-clear message my team is sending me by being here.
Quick might have my company, but their loyalty is still with me.
We arrive in a caravan at the Quicks’ estate. Graham has spared no expense, and the lavish grounds are perfect for a party. Fresh flowers are planted everywhere and fill huge vases on every table. There are string lights on every tree and servers in tuxedos carrying trays of wine, champagne, and hors d’oeuvres wander around.
My employees and I wind up by the pool, where a live band plays on the expansive courtyard to the right. The day is bright and sunny, unseasonably warm for this time of year. We get drinks, and settle into the party, which is a mixture of my people and Quick’s.
I haven’t seen Graham yet or his wife, but I’m not anxious. I’m ready to see him. I’ll learn to work with him, for my employees and for Alison. There’s no anger inside me now, even though he’s taken so much from me. I have no room for it.
How can I be angry, when Sadie and Pippa are freaking with Grey—who looks way too comfortable with the situation? How can I be angry, when I see Raylene and Rhett curled against each other on a lounge chair? Mia and Ethan laughing, in their own little world. Philippe and Paolo talking like they’ve been friends for a decade. Brooks and Cookie in a deep conversation, which . . . is a surprising mismatch, to say the least.
As I look around me, anger is not a possibility. It just isn’t. I’m lighter now that Chloe’s parents and mine know the truth. And I have Ali in my life now.
Once again, I scan the party for her. Where is she?
Arms wrap around me from behind and squeeze. “Found you,” she says.
I pull her close, wrapping my around her. “What took you so long?” I see what she’s wearing—a black miniskirt and a tight tank top—and bend by her ear. “How about you show me your bedroom?”
She smiles and brushes a kiss on my lips. “Later.” Her gentle blue eyes are surprisingly serious and focused. “First, there’s something we need to do.”
Chapter 45
Alison
What’s that?” Adam asks, giving me a warm, inviting look. It makes me smile to see him relaxed and joking with the Boomerang staff—who remain nearby, having fun but with the vigilance of bodyguards. They’ve rallied around him.
“Come with me,” I tell him, and take his hand.
“So, you are going to give me the bedroom tour?”
I grin back at him. “I’m going to give you something even better.”
He lets go of my hand and seizes me around the waist, pressing in close. His fingers skim the band of skin between my tank top and the waist of my skirt, and I shiver. “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing better than last night.”
“And this morning,” I remind him.
“And tonight.”
“Come on,” I say, and tug him along. We wind through pockets of partygoers, and I grab a dodge around a caterer carrying a tray of mimosas, running into another with a tray of Bloody Marys.
“Take one,” I tell Adam. “You’ll need it.”
“What about you?”
I shake my head. “I’m giving it a rest for a bit. But you go ahead.”
“You know what? I’m fine. I’ve made peace with all this.” And I can see he has, that he’s made peace with so many things. He still has the bright intense energy of the boy I faced off with in the offices of Boomerang, but without the sharp edge to it. I realize we’ve become the people we pretended to be on Halloween night, and I stop and give him a kiss to celebrate.
“We do have a destination, right? Because at this rate we’ll be old before we leave your patio.”
I laugh and pull him over the threshold into the house. People have gathered in the kitchen and in the family room. I say my hellos, anxiety swelling in me. This has to go just right.
Before we enter my dad’s study, I turn to Adam and kiss him one last time.
“What’s up, Ali?” he asks, his gray eyes searching mine.
“Do you trust me?”
Without hesitation, he nods. “With everything.”
“All right, then. Come on.”
I push open the door. Inside, my mother and father sit on opposite ends of the sofa. My father, who should be basking in his victory, looks edgy, uptight. And my mother, who is about to do the bravest thing of her life, looks twenty years younger—almost glowing in a trim navy sundress with dangling silver earrings.
My father glances up, and his gaze levels at our joined hands, at what must be the unmistakable energy between Adam and me. His expression darkens, but it doesn’t reach me. It’s like one of those days on the water, when the sky is overcast and foreboding but the rain never comes. And even if it does, I won’t mind, and I won’t be afraid.
“Now do you want to tell me what’s going on, Vivian?” my father asks. “Are we putting on some kind of show here?”
Adam looks at me, equally confused.
“Sit down,” I tell him, and lead him over to the leather wingback chair by the fire—my favorite.
“We need to get back outside,” my father says, eyes darting between us. He’s calculating, I think, working on damage control, though he doesn’t know yet what form the damag
e will take. “We have eighty guests here.”
“Oh, they’ll be fine,” my mother says. “This won’t take a moment.” She looks at me and gives me a subtle nod.
“So, here’s the thing, Dad.” I take Adam’s hand. “You’re not going to take ownership of Adam’s company.”
My father crosses his over his chest and regards me with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not?”
“No. Because you know those partnership papers you signed?” He and Adam both nod. “Well, your shares are about to be cut in half,” I tell him. “Which means you’ll only own twenty-five percent of the company.”
“And how the hell do you plan to pull that off? Some kind of magic trick?”
“No,” my mother says and reaches beside her for a fat package of documents. “More of a legal trick.”
She pulls the papers from the envelope and lays them on my father’s lap. He glances and then looks more closely. His mouth gapes.
Plain for all of us to see are the words “Dissolution of Marriage.”
“A divorce?” my father says, tossing the papers onto the coffee table before him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’ve never felt less ridiculous in my life,” my mother says, and I know the feeling. To Adam she adds, “This legal trick being what it is, I’ll own half of my husband’s—my ex-husband’s—shares in your company. And I’d be willing to sell them back to you at cost.”
Adam shakes his head. “I’ve got a better idea,” he tells us, and it’s clear he’s already taken in the situation, weighed his options, and settled on a plan. “Keep the shares. They’re going to be worth a fortune. I have a feeling we’ll work well together and that you’ll help me keep my other partner in line.”
“I’ll tie you up for years in litigation,” my father says. “This little exercise of yours is pointless.” He leans forward in his chair, face almost purple with rage. “And you,” he says to Adam. “I can still ruin you. I still know all your secrets. Nothing’s changed there.”
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