I kiss her temple, listen to her beautiful sigh. We enjoy the music as we come down from that incredible high.
“How many lovers have you had?” Cherie says softly, her fingers drawing circles on my abs.
“Oh, do we want to have that discussion?”
“I’m not jealous, if that’s what you mean. Come on. You know exactly how many I have had.”
Stroking her hair, I grunt.
“That many, huh?” I feel her face smile.
“I had a couple of girlfriends in high school, a couple in college and several since. Let’s see.” I count faces in my mind. “You are my seventh lover.”
“That’s all? What about one night stands?”
“Nope. Never. My sexual relationships have been fairly long-term.” I caress her arm. “After our first time, I thought you’d be my first one-night stand.” I kiss her temple. “Glad you weren’t.”
“Seriously? Seven is it? You’re how old?”
“Twenty-eight.”
She sits up, looks at me. “Are you sure you’re a real man?”
“Hey, now. Don’t question my masculinity.” I chuckle. “You think real men fuck anything that moves? Is that it?”
I know you do, mi ninfa. I’m blowing that hypothesis right here and now.
She shrugs, but her eyes say yes.
“You tell me. Did you come with a real man inside you tonight?” I grin. “Tell me now if my cock feels faux. I’ll have to see a doctor.”
She smiles, bites her lip. “You felt pretty authentic to me.”
“Whew.” I wipe my brow. “What a relief.”
She laughs, shakes her head at me. “You’re crazy.”
For you, crazy insane for you.
A tendril of her blonde hair flows down her chest. I curl my finger around the silky strand, caress the side of her breast at the same time.
“How many lovers did you expect me to have had?”
“I don’t know. Hundreds. You’re hot and so good at it,” she says.
“Why, thank you.” I kiss the dusting of light freckles across her cheek. “So are you. Damn good. You made me pass out tonight. Making love isn’t about experience. It’s chemistry, and whether or not your partner inspires you.”
“Pheromones?” She says.
I smile. “Technical term, yes.”
Tilting her head, she searches my eyes with her hypnotic ones. Finally, she smiles, kisses my chin. “Speaking of inspiration.” She stretches a leg over my stomach. “Can you take these stockings off me now? They’re itchy.”
“Happy to.” I fondle her leg while I pull the sexy stocking off. Do the same with her other leg. “If you’re itchy, you must be dry.”
“It’s the pool chlorine. I shouldn’t have gotten into the water this afternoon.” She moves like she’s getting off the bed. “I need lotion.”
“Stay. I’ll get it,” I say.
“My lotion is on the dresser in my room.”
“Avalon lotion not good enough for you?” I ask.
Whistling innocently, she looks up at ceiling.
“Damn. You’re a demanding guest.” I chuckle.
I go to her room, grab the lotion bottle. I pump some in my palm to warm it as I walk back.
“Sorry, Victor. I don’t mean to diss your hotel at every turn.”
“Help us improve. That’s your job.” I motion her to lie at the edge of the bed.
She lies face down, rests her head on her arms. “How about a selection of personal care products? Guests who need a thicker lotion can ask for the better stuff.”
Starting at her shoulders, I move her hair out of the way and smear a thick layer of lotion down her back.
“Nope. Guests of The Av should never have to ask for anything. We anticipate every need.” I stroke her nose with a dot of lotion. “Every guest shall get the good stuff.”
I make a mental note of the brand name on her bottle. “You recommend this shit, huh?”
“Very much. It’s pricey, but worth it.” She tilts her head in thought.
“What? Speak your mind, Cherie.”
“Have you thought about converting the pools to salt water? It’s not as harsh on skin. I know the upfront can be costly, but ongoing maintenance is a fraction of chlorine.”
“You’re a smart one.” I nod, moisturizing her arms. “We’re converting the lap pool in the gym now and the outdoor pool at the end of the summer season. We’ll recoup the conversion expense in less than 18 months. ”
“Nice.” She smiles.
“Glad The Avalon can make you happy, Ms. Valentine.” I massage her ass and thighs.
She sighs, asks another question. “You went to Cornell, right?”
“Yes. Undergrad and postgraduate,” I say. “Straight through, too. Fuck, I thought I’d spend the rest of my life in school.”
She sighs, again.
“You don’t approve of my education?”
“Oh, no. I mean, yeah of course I approve. Cornell has the top ranked hospitality program in the U.S.”
Sensing she’s feeling inferior, I say, “CU’s a good school.”
She shrugs. “It’s a decent start. I hope to cap it with a postgraduate degree at the Glion.”
Whoa. My girl has big plans. Located in Switzerland, The Glion is the world’s number one hospitality school. I rub her calves and feet, aware, all of a sudden, that other men might not be my biggest competition.
“Do you think Santana Resorts will ever have properties in Europe?” She asks.
“I never say never. Right now, though, we’re focusing on U.S. and Caribbean beach destinations.”
“So perhaps a property on the Mediterranean, possibly the coast of Italy, France or Spain?”
I laugh. “Perhaps, someday.”
Would I advocate altering our long-range expansion plans to help Cherie realize her dreams? When my brain answers with an instant and unequivocal fuck yes, I freeze.
Fantasizing about making babies while having an unbelievable orgasm might be considered normal for a wolf. Consciously willing to advocate to grandmother we change our long range plans?
Oh yeah, I got it bad.
“Are you okay?” Cherie looks up at me.
I have her rollover onto her back. “Yeah.”
“You just got a totally serious look on your face.”
“Rubbing you down is totally serious business.” I pump lotion directly onto her belly.
She cries out, brings her knees to her chest. “That’s cold.”
“Aw, I’m sorry. Let’s see if I can warm it up.” I press her legs back down, slide my hands through the lotion from her belly to her breasts, avoiding the nipples — so I can suck on those.
Within seconds, her arching back and throaty moans replace any thoughts I had about properties with thoughts of making her come, again. Since my fingers are tainted with lotion, I use my mouth on her delicious pussy.
Compared with earlier, this orgasm is light, but it’s the one that makes her sleepy.
I bundle her under the covers, turn off the iPod and light, gather mi ninfa in my arms. For the third night in a row, I marvel at her ability to nod off in seconds.
Only when I hear her even breathing do I say the truth aloud.
“I’m in love with you, Cherie Rose Valentine,” I whisper, kiss her soft lips.
Sighing, she turns to lie mostly on her stomach, sprawling an arm and a leg over me. For such a little thing, she sure takes up a lot of space in bed. I cup her ass, loving every second of it.
Content, yet knowing I’m out of my mind, I drift off to sleep planning more than her birthday party.
chapter twenty-six
VICTOR SLEEPS SO soundly. Bet I could blow a trumpet right now and he’d sleep right through it. With my head on his chest and his arm around me, I listen to his even breathing and heartbeat.
He was out of control last night. Before, when he was holding back, afraid of hurting me, sex was great. But last night?
Oh
. My. God.
It was the most amazing experience of my life. The orgasm was spectacular.
Personifying the primitive male, Victor looked at me and touched me as if he were claiming me all for himself. Taking me like he couldn’t help himself took my breath away — thrilling and wonderful. I loved having that effect on him.
Well, it wasn’t me. It was the stockings.
Men have strange quirks. My girlfriends shared some of their odd experiences and I’ve read about even stranger ones.
I lightly kiss his chest.
Stockings are a pretty mild quirk by comparison, but, god, what they did to him sure wasn’t. Now that I know, I’ll wear them again.
Lifting my head, I try to slip out from under Victor’s arm. It tightens around me, and his hand slides up to hold my head tight to his chest. I’ve noticed that when I stroke his abs with my fingertips, he usually rolls on his side toward me. I try it now and it works. When he turns, I kiss his jaw and his lips lightly before I sit up.
“Mi ninfa,” he mumbles in his sleep.
Hmmm. Go running or kiss and stroke him until he wakes up?
I have to choose running. This is the morning I tell Jesse that I’m seeing Victor. Just thinking about it stresses me out.
In the pitch black, I feel for my phone on the nightstand and tap it see the time. 5:18 a.m. I remind myself to find out the brand of blackout liner The Avalon uses and to take pictures of the mounting apparatus. The info could come in handy sometime in the future. Standing, I use my phone for light — keeping it pointed down so I don’t disturb Victor.
Once in my room, I snap on a small table lamp and dig in the desk drawer for a memo pad and pen. I jot a quick note letting Victor know I went running and tiptoe back to his bathroom to tuck the note in the mirror frame so he’ll see it when he brushes his teeth. Hopefully he won’t get weird about me leaving this time.
Back in my room, I brush my teeth, and then pull on my workout clothes. Reaching in my closet for my ratty running shoes, I find a brand new shoe box with a big bow and gift card sitting beside them.
I set the box on the dresser, and open the card.
Happy birthday, mi ninfa. XOXO, Victor.
Inside the box is a brand new version of my old ratty running shoes. I take a few steps backward to lean in the door frame between our rooms. There’s just enough light to make out his handsome face.
“Thank you, babe,” I whisper.
One of my biggest fears is that I got Mom’s emotional genes. The fact that I’m falling for a guy this fast confirms it. Nothing good will come of it. I’m certain of it.
I push off the door frame and sit to lace up my new shoes. I stand and bounce, testing them out. Wow. Cushy. What a difference.
I turn over the card and write Thank You with a big heart. I tiptoe to Victor’s bathroom again, tuck the card beside my note.
With a bottled water from my mini-fridge, I slip out my door and go to the lobby to wait for Jesse. I’ve decided to tell him after our run, while we’re cooling down — while the endorphins are still flowing that, hopefully, will keep him calm.
Still waiting 20 minutes past our agreed meeting time, I text him. ‘R U coming?’
‘No’ he replies right back.
That means he’s up.
‘Need to talk to u.’ I text back.
‘Asshole Victor doesn’t have ears?’
“Hey, Cherie.”
I look up to see LauraLynn, smiling and dressed to run. She sees my text.
“Did you tell Jesse?” She asks.
“No,” I wiggle the phone. “I don’t want to do it in a text. And he’s not coming this morning.”
“Maybe he already knows,” she says.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if Gabs beat me to it,” I say.
“It might be easier coming from her. C’mon, Birthday Girl. I’ll run with you.” She offers me a hand up.
“Only if you take baby steps, Missy Long Legs.” I smile. One of her strides is like two and a half of mine.
“Deal.”
I accept her outstretched hand, and we walk outside to warm up and stretch.
“What is up between Gabs and Jesse anyway? She defends him like he’s Jesus himself.”
“You noticed, huh? Physically, nothing’s going on. But I believe both of them want something going on.” I run in place. “You know how you glare at Reed?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lauralynn says, turns in the other direction to stretch her waist.
She’s lying. Lauralynn hates Gabs’ brother. From the longing looks he shoots her, the feeling is not mutual. In the extremely rare cases they’re in the same room, that is. No matter how much Gabs and I dig, neither one of them will say what happened between them.
“Yeah, whatever. Well, it’s similar between Jesse and Gabs. Gabs watches him when she thinks no one is looking. And he does the same, staring at Gabs like she’s an unattainable goddess. In a way, that’s accurate. She was already Baldwin’s fiancee when he met her.”
“Yet Jesse thinks he’s in love with you?”
I nod and stretch my other hammie. “Have you ever been in love, Ells?”
“I thought I was once.”
“And?”
“Crashed. Hard. Something I never want to experience, again. But, glutton for punishment that I am, I hope to find what my parents have, eventually.”
“They really love each other?”
“Embarrassingly so sometimes with their PDAs.” She laughs, then gets serious. “I watched them support one another through hell and back. Mom’s breast cancer. Dad’s business bankruptcy.”
She bends at the waist, touches her toes. “I want that or nothing at all.”
“How do you know if you found it?”
“Mom says you just know. She knew instantly. Supposedly the second Dad first kissed her.”
I smirk.
“Hey, I’m just repeating her words of wisdom.” She straps on her iPod. “Ready? You lead.”
“To Pandora Mine and back? It’s five miles total with a slight climb, though.”
“I spent last week in the mountains of New Mexico. I should be acclimated to the altitude enough to do it with no problem.”
“Okay. Tap if you’re having issues.”
She agrees.
With earbuds in, we head east out of The Avalon’s big circular driveway.
Lauralynn’s parents do seem to have a great relationship. They’re always touching each other, laughing and smiling, doing things for the other person. They are the only truly happy older couple I know personally. They’ve got to be one in a million.
So different from my house growing up. Mom tried but after Dad’s numerous affairs came out, the light went out in her eyes. Dad didn’t do a damn thing for Mom except break her heart.
Keeping her promise, Lauralynn under-steps to stay with me. I pause my iPod to listen to her breathing — don’t want my best friend getting altitude sickness and passing out on me. She seems fine. The climb up to the mine is perfect — not too flat, not too steep. Plus, the hardest part is up front. Then, it’s downhill on the way back. We hit the mine with no problem, turn around and take the northern edge of town to make a loop.
About three blocks from The Av, I see Baldwin coming out of the Canyon B&B up the block. I pull my earbuds, and point.
“What the hell?”
Not noticing us at all, he turns to walk in the same direction we are. Lauralynn pulls her earbuds out, too.
“Wow. They’re even staying in different places?”
“No,” I say, watching his back. “He has a room at The Av.”
We slow to a walk and follow him. Instead of taking the main portico, Baldwin walks around the side and takes a back entrance in.
“God, Ells. I have a bad feeling about this.”
She shakes her head, rubs her temple. “Maybe he got too wasted at the bachelor party. Is a family member or friend staying at the B&B?”
&nb
sp; “Maybe.” I shrug. I feel, deep down, that it’s a stretch, and I feel, deep down, that Baldwin was up to no good last night.
When we get inside, I stop. “I can’t shake the feeling that Gabs is making a huge mistake. Talk to her. She won’t listen to me.”
“Alright. What we saw is circumstantial at best, but I’ll give it a shot.”
“Thanks for running with me. I need to stop by HR.”
“Okay. See ya.”
We part ways, Lauralynn for the elevator, me to the center of beehive.
I fish a note from my pocket as a walk down the hall to HR.
I hear Michael’s voice before I see him. “Good morning, my Chéri amour.”
After slipping my note detailing uniform sizes through Helen’s mail slot, I turn to him. “Hey.”
He carries a bin of clean kitchen towels.
“C’mon. Let me buy you a coffee in the cafeteria.”
“I’m not exactly dressed for that, Moon-bow.” I hold out my arms, showing my wet armpits.
“Puh-lease. You’re still the hottest thing going.”
My smile fades a little.
“What?” He says. “You don’t think so?”
“I know you’re joking, but can you dial those kinds of comments back a bit?”
Rubbing his chin in thought, he doesn’t answer for a moment. “Sure.” He looks up and down the hall. “If you let me buy you a cup of coffee and talk to me about it. We’re between shift change. Not much traffic in there right now.”
“Okay.” Giving in, I follow him into the cafeteria.
Michael leads me through the line. I grab a coffee and make him pay for a muffin, too.
“It’s my birthday.”
“So I hear.” He laughs and pays the cashier.
The employee cafeteria, as in most hotels, serves mostly leftovers — day-old pastries and foods that hotel guests didn’t order the day before. None of it is bad or rotten. It’s just no longer fresh enough to warrant five-star prices. It’s a win-win to sell it to employees at cost. The hotel recoups some operating expenses and employees get high-quality food at fantastic prices.
The employee dining room is practically empty. Michael leads me to a table in the corner.
“So. You and the GM, huh?” Michael lays his Cajun accent. Though, he sips his coffee like he just mentioned the weather, thickening the accent typically means a lecture is imminent.
Accidental Lover (Wolven Moon Book 3) Page 18