“He’s proud of you.”
Cleo paused to think about that comment for a moment, not saying anything at all. When she returned to the conversation it was to ask Cilla what to do next, her cornbread ready to go into the oven.
Standing in the doorway, Malcolm watched as Cilla and his daughter shared time and space together. The energy between them was nowhere near the easy dynamics Cilla shared with Claudia but there wasn’t that noxious tension that had been there weeks before. He attributed that to Cilla’s patience. From start to finish she’d allowed Cleo to build their bond at her own pace, letting the young girl know she was there to support her and be her friend.
It had been a challenge but Cilla had insisted he stay out of it, to let them find their way on their own. Despite his wanting to intervene a time or two when Cleo had gotten out of hand, he’d let Cilla take the lead, trusting that she knew best. And she had. He could see it as Cleo eagerly worked alongside the woman to prepare the evening meal. She looked comfortable, even excited, and her smile was wide. It had been some time since Malcolm had last seen her smile so brightly.
What his mother had said really did click. Cleo would heal once they all stopped treating her like something was wrong with her. It had also been too long since he’d last told Cilla he loved her, imagining after having only said it one time that the beautiful woman might find it difficult to believe. His whole family would be fine once he relaxed and allowed them to be. He nodded, suddenly feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Clapping his hands excitedly he moved into the room. “Hello, hello, hello! Something smells good in here!” He moved around the counter to give his daughter a hug, then eased his way to Cilla’s side, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulled her close. He pressed his mouth to hers in an easy kiss.
“Hi, Daddy!” Cleo chimed. “I made the cornbread and Cilla’s making the chili. We’re having a chili and cheese fiesta. It’s Cilla’s recipe!”
He winked an eye at the woman in his arms before releasing the hold he had around her body. “Well it smells delicious. I can’t wait to taste it. And you made the cornbread all by yourself?”
“Cilla showed me how.”
“Your daughter is quite the chef,” Cilla said. “She even put the dessert together!”
“It’s peach dump cake,” Cleo said, her eyes wide with excitement. “You just ‘dump’ all the ingredients into one dish. It’s super easy! It’ll go into the oven while we eat dinner so it’s ready when we’re done. Right, Cilla?”
The woman nodded as she turned back to the chili that had begun to simmer on the stovetop. “That’s right. We should be ready to eat once Claudia gets home from dance class.”
Malcolm nodded. “Did you finish your homework, young lady?”
Cleo nodded. “Cilla helped me with my English assignment.”
“They’re studying modern and contemporary poetry,” Cilla said. “And I’m a big fan of Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson.”
“A poetry buff! I’m impressed.”
Cilla smiled.
“It’s just a whole lot of words to me,” Cleo said, “but Cilla told me to just think of it as rap music without the music. Then it made sense. I like Emily Dickinson’s love poems.”
“Well, I am impressed,” Malcolm said, his own smile canyon-wide.
Cleo nodded. “I’m going to go check on Grandma. You two can play kissy-face until I get back.”
Cilla laughed. Malcolm shook his head.
“Thank you,” he said. “We appreciate that!”
Cleo grinned as she turned and headed toward the door. Before she made her exit she gave Cilla one last look. “Cilla, are you staying for short story time tonight?”
Cilla tossed Malcolm a quick look. “I can.”
Cleo smiled. “Good,” she said before she disappeared out the door.
When the girl was out of sight Malcolm pulled Cilla back into his arms. “Hey, you!”
“Hey, yourself!”
He dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her, his desire searing her lips with heat. They held the connection for a good minute before he let her go. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here.”
“Neither was I but your mother called and asked if I could come give her a hand with a few things.”
Malcolm chuckled, the riff coming from deep in his gut. Cilla eyed him questioningly.
“My mother’s concerned about our relationship. I think this is her way of intervening.”
Cilla smiled. “What did she say?”
“She basically told me that I don’t show you how much I love you nearly enough.”
Cilla reached up to kiss his mouth, pressing her lips to his. “So you do love me?”
“I love you more than you know, woman!”
“You’d do anything for me?”
He nodded, allowing his lips to dance over her one more time.
She smiled. “Then set the table. Dinner is just about ready.”
Malcolm laughed but before he could say another word, his family bombarded the room, Claudia and Cleo racing ahead of their grandmother, their excitement and chatter like the sweetest sound to his ears.
Chapter Thirteen
The four-hundred-mile ride from Raleigh, North Carolina, to Sea Island, Georgia, was a leisurely seven-hour jaunt with the top down on Malcolm’s Mercedes SL Class Roadster. A mix of cool jazz played on the CD player. As the wind blew through her hair, Cilla adjusted a silk scarf around her head. With her dark glasses she exuded a Grace Kelly flair, her vibe confident and sexy. Both enjoyed savoring the quiet between them, nothing really needed to be said as they enjoyed the experience and each other’s company. Above their heads the sky was a brilliant shade of blue and the hint of sunlight peeked from behind a wealth of billowy white clouds. The moderate temperatures were perfection and both were glad for the chance to steal away.
Malcolm reached out and clasped his hand around Cilla’s. Her palm was soft against his and he found himself craving more of her touch. He shifted his gaze in her direction and she met his stare with the sweetest smile. “I’m glad you could get away with me,” he said.
Cilla pulled the sunshades from her face and gave him an easy wink of her eye. “I wouldn’t want to be anyplace else,” she responded.
Conversation between them was easy and casual. Laughter was abundant, both carefree and flirty with nothing on their minds but each other. They took in the sights, stopping here and there to explore one small town after another. It was the most relaxed either had been for a good long while.
The Cloister hotel was one of the most stunning places Cilla had ever seen. The five-star, Mediterranean-inspired resort sat on a unique natural setting with exclusive access to five miles of private beach. The gardens were a horticultural dream come true and the two-hundred-room hotel an architectural masterpiece. It was the lap of luxury defined by legendary elegance and a discriminating clientele.
The service was hands above any Cilla had ever experienced before and she was in awe as a bellhop led them to the suite that Malcolm had reserved for the weekend. The two-bedroom suite was extravagant with dark woods, robust fabrics, and classic furnishings. From the living room’s balcony they had a magnificent view of the marshes on the Black Banks River.
Malcolm thought the only thing more beautiful than their surroundings was Cilla’s expression as she took it all in. And he said so after he tipped the bellman and closed the door behind the man. “You are so gorgeous!”
Cilla smiled. “You are sweet. But I’m sure I need a good shower after our ride.”
“Shower, no shower, you are still the most gorgeous thing in this room right now.”
Cilla moved to where he stood and eased herself into his arms, laying her head against his chest. He wrapped himself around her, hugging her tightly. The sweet scents of his cologne and her perfume melded together in an olfactory delight. She inhaled him, breathing him in like he was oxygen. The heat between them was simmering and
Cilla felt herself break out into a sweat, perspiration beginning to trickle in unexpected places. She inhaled another deep breath.
Malcolm relished the feel of her in his arms. Just her touch had him heated as he felt a quiver of electricity shoot through his southern quadrant. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, desperate to stall the rising tremor of muscle between his legs. He suddenly took a step back, dropping his arms and hands to his sides.
He pointed toward the larger bedroom. “Why don’t you go grab that shower? Maybe get yourself a quick nap? I have a few things I need to take care of and when I get back we can get dressed and head to an early dinner.”
Cilla nodded. “That sounds like a plan.”
Malcolm leaned to kiss her cheek, allowing his lips to linger there briefly. Then he turned and exited the room. Outside the suite door he took a deep breath and then a second, calming the shivers that had rushed across his spine, out into his limbs. He wanted her and it was getting harder to hide that desire. Most especially since he was certain she wanted him just as much. Malcolm was anxious and nervous. Cilla deserved only the very best from him so he was determined to make their first moment together memorable.
The water was heated, the shower massage head feeling like a trillion small fingers kneading her flesh. Thoughts of Malcolm and the sensation of the moisture raining down on her had her feeling like mush, every muscle quivering like jelly. Cilla spun her body from one side to the other, twisting the tightness out of her spine. After a few more minutes she imagined that Malcolm would soon be looking for her. She didn’t have a clue how long she’d been there but she knew it had been a good while. The rumble in her tummy was motivation to get moving as well, her hunger rising rapidly.
She swiped her loofah sponge across her skin one last time, savoring the feel of the body wash across her flesh. Minutes later she was wrapped in an oversize plush white towel, her body sprawled across the king-size bed as she flipped though her cell phone. Her shower had taken thirty minutes longer than she’d expected. She typed a text message to Malcolm, wanting to check their schedule, then pushed the SEND button. His response came back quickly, taking mere minutes to turn around. Cilla smiled at his reply, the man’s brief message mysterious and teasing.
She could hear him in the other room, the echo of his footsteps loud and clear. Rising from the warmth of her bed, she stretched her long limbs outward, reaching for an imagined fixture in the ceiling. Her cell phone suddenly vibrated, calling for her attention. Another message appeared on the screen, bringing a second bright smile to her face. She blew a deep sigh as the thought of him beckoned her to rise and dress. Throwing her legs off the bed she wrapped a plush, terry bathrobe around her naked body and slipped her pedicured feet into her bedroom slippers, then headed toward the closet to retrieve her clothes.
It took no time at all for her to get ready, slipping into a form-fitting, black cocktail dress. The lace number was cut low in the back, showed an ample amount of cleavage, and stopped just above her knees. The heels were cobalt blue, a thigh-high Grecian-inspired cage sandal. Feeling no need to blow dry and straighten her hair she’d allowed the strands to air dry, natural curls framing her face in a wealth of defined ringlets.
Moving from the bedroom back to the living space she found Malcolm standing in the center of the room. He held a beverage glass in his hand. Cilla’s eyes widened at the sight of him. He was dressed in a black suit, white dress shirt, and a red necktie. He was freshly trimmed and shaved and Cilla imagined that he could have easily modeled for the cover of GQ magazine. She thought the man looked absolutely divine.
“Wow!”
Malcolm laughed, amusement painting his expression. “I take it you approve?”
She nodded. “Most definitely. You look very nice, Mr. Cobb.”
“I have to agree,” he said as he trailed his thumbs down the length of his lapels.
Cilla giggled.
Malcolm extended his elbow. “Shall we?”
Sliding her hand through his arm, she nodded. “We shall!”
Malcolm had made reservations at the Georgian Room, the only Forbes Five-Star restaurant in Georgia. They were greeted by a tuxedoed host who led them to a table in front of the fireplace, a stately structure with a carved stone mantel. Above their heads the chandeliers were gold and crystal, exquisite light fixtures that epitomized the lavishness of the setting. From start to finish the Georgian Room was an exceptional dining experience. Everything about it was magical.
Malcolm had preselected the chef’s tasting menu, a decadent presentation of locally sourced Southern cuisine. It was a six-course presentation of indulgent fare served on hand-painted china with silver flatware and European linens. They dined on prime rib tartare, Maine lobster and chilled corn soup, loin of lamb with twice-baked, caviar-topped potato, goat-cheese crème brulee with peach compote, and meringue-topped sorbet and berries. Every bite was a melt-in-your mouth flavor-fest that teased the senses.
They could have talked for hours, enjoying each other’s company as much as they were. It felt good and both were completely enamored of each other. They traded easy caresses and flirted shamelessly. Innuendo was abundant, fueling the sexual tension between them. With the last bite of dessert Malcolm and Cilla knew they wanted more, the sugar and sweet they craved not found on the restaurant’s dessert tray.
Malcolm stared into her eyes, unable to put words to the desire that had surged with a vengeance. He’d been wanting her since the first day he’d laid eyes on her and as they’d grown closer his desire had manifested into a need so magnanimous that he felt as if his whole world suddenly revolved around him having her.
He pushed himself up from the table and extended his hand toward her. Cilla’s gaze was still locked with his as she entwined her fingers between his fingers. His palm kissed her palm, his touch warm and gentle. It was the sweetest of caresses as he pulled her along beside him, guiding the way back to their suite. Once inside the room, Cilla’s eyes widened in awe.
Their hotel room had been completely transformed, bouquets of red roses adorning every flat surface. Candles in varying shapes and sized shimmered through the space, their light casting a sensuous glow around the room. A bottle of champagne, two crystal flutes, and an oversized heart shaped box of expensive chocolates rested on the coffee table. She smiled, knowing that the bed had been made with silk sheets. With the door secured behind them, there was nothing that could have kept them from each other.
Cilla moved to the center of the room. She turned to face him, the sweetest expression across her face. Her smile was warm and welcoming and everything good about the two of them shimmered like the brightest light from her eyes. She beckoned him to her with her index finger, her seductive expression hardening every muscle in his body.
He strode slowly in her direction, shedding his suit jacket and tie along the way. When he reached her side Cilla turned her back to him, her head tilted just so as she eyed him over her shoulder. With nothing said he pulled at the zipper that closed her dress, slowly exposing inch after inch of warm flesh. His fingers danced against her skin, his touch like hot embers igniting a serious fire through her feminine spirit. He slid his hand through her hair, releasing the strands to her shoulders. Gently pushing her head forward he pressed a damp kiss to the back of her neck. He trailed his tongue across the soft flesh, pausing at the lobe of her ear. Where his lips led his tongue followed, tasting the salt and sweet of her skin.
Cilla stood relishing the intensity of his touch. Every pass of his mouth against her flesh left her breathless. She turned in his arms, taking a step away from him. Meeting the look he was giving her she found herself falling headfirst into the depths of his dark eyes, sheer lust seeping past his lashes. With a seductive striptease Cilla slid the dress from her body, the garment falling to a puddle at the floor beneath her feet. She wore more lace beneath her dress, her bra and panty a brilliant shade of fire-engine red. The delicate design looked like intricate paint against h
er brown skin.
Her breasts were full and lush and they made his mouth water with anticipation. The arch of her waist accentuated her full hips and her buttocks were two magnificent globes that had him literally standing at full attention. She bit down against her bottom lip, her intoxicating stare leaving him drunk with desire.
He took a quick step toward her drawing her into his arms. He captured her mouth, his kiss a passionate tongue-entwined melding that had her weak in the knees. With his body wrapped tightly around hers, he savored the sensation of her skin pressed to his. He gasped as her hands suddenly danced between them, pulling at his belt and zipper to release him from his clothes. Touch was suddenly urgent as they snatched the last of their clothing away, both standing naked together.
Unable to contain his enthusiasm Malcolm swept her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. With one hand he snatched the bed covers, tossing them to the floor. He gently rested her against the mattress top as he eased his body above hers. Their mouths were still locked in that kiss, lips dancing, tongues lashing. She tasted sweet, like honey from a freshly broken comb.
Cilla was suddenly sprawled open against the bed top, panting heavily as Malcolm broke the connection, moving to his toiletry bag. He searched anxiously for a condom, finally dumping its contents to the floor until one was found. He sheathed himself quickly before falling back against her. Their connection came swiftly as he eased himself inside of her, every part of her body welcoming him in. She gasped loudly as the fullness of him found its way. When he was nestled tightly against her they both paused, relishing the intensity of the sensations sweeping between them.
Cilla wrapped her arms around his torso, her nails raking the length of his back as he began to slowly drive himself in and out of her. Every nerve ending was firing, electrical shimmers exploding with a vengeance. The connection was sweeter than anything either had ever known before.
Malcolm could barely contain himself as her liquid warmth enveloped his favorite body part. Being inside that warm sheath was unfathomable, better than he could have possibly imagined. She was tight, fitting him like a glove and with each stroke her muscles suctioned him harder and harder as she drew him in deeper and deeper. Their loving was intense as he pressed himself into her over and over again, grinding in circles back and forth.
Playing For Keeps Page 17