“That’s so good,” he praised me and my clit throbbed in response, a deep need in me satisfied at displaying myself for him. Letting him see all I offered, for him and him alone.
“Now when I tell you to come…” As he gave me instructions, he kept up his slow, insistent rhythm, his thumb at my clit and two fingers thrusting in me, then out, then in again. “You’re going to pinch your fat nipples for me. Can you do that, baby?”
“Yes,” I moaned, feeling myself get so close, my spread thighs quivering. I’d love doing that for him.
“Good.” He picked up his rhythm, letting my shudders build, finally coaxing my desire up to the peak. “Now come!”
Screaming in pleasure, my eyes closed, I pinched my nipples like he’d instructed me, his fingers deep inside me as I climaxed. “Colt!” I cried out as I came on his fingers, bucking off the bed with the force of it.
“Just like that,” Colt growled, dipping his mouth down to my clit to suck another wave of pleasure from me, making me moan in ecstasy.
“Dripping wet,” Colt declared in masculine satisfaction, giving me one last lick before he grabbed a pillow and stood up at the base of the bed. “Now come here, so I can fuck you.”
I felt limp as a noodle, but somehow I managed to nearly scamper down where he was waiting. Motivation could cause superhuman strength. People lifting up cars after an accident, me making it down to the edge of the bed after one orgasm in the shower plus the one I’d just had. These things happened in real life, I’m telling you.
“Legs up over my shoulders.” He helped me do it, looping them up and placing a pillow under my hips to tilt me toward him. He cupped my ass in his large hands, holding me there as he brought his huge cock to my entrance. I gave a deep moan, waiting, knowing how good it would feel. How had I lived without this for a whole week? No wonder it had felt like the longest week in history.
He entered me with one long, strong thrust and my hands fisted in the sheets, my head twisted to the side, eyes closed. Every time I took him in it was an effort. He spread me, filled me up tight. It always, at first, pushed right along the edge of pain. But that made it even more erotic, the intensity of it, the dominant feel of him. And then, once he started moving, thrusting into me, his skilled finger strumming my clit in rhythm with his cock, it was nothing but pleasure, pure pleasure, leaving me speechless, breathless, thoughtless even except for “More! Now!”
“You want more?” he asked, his voice almost violent with lust, fucking me like an animal. With my legs up, my ass tilted toward him, he thrust into me deeply. His fingers dug into my buttocks and held me there as he worked me hard, harder with each thrust.
“Caroline,” he growled, growing tense, getting close. I opened my eyes and met his, blown away by the intense, wild, heat I saw in them. The driving possession, the raw lust. “I’ll never get enough of you.” He pounded into me and I couldn’t believe it but there it was again, an orgasm, fizzing and bubbling up inside of me, exploding around him as he pumped his hot come into my eager pussy. He gave me everything he had, until easing me down, unwinding my legs, he sank down next to me, panting and sweaty.
“Me, too,” I murmured, feeling swoony and dreamy, our hands intertwined.
“Wuz at?” he asked, pulling me up to lie on his chest. Just like I had when we’d been on the island, listening to his heart beat. Hearing it slow from a frenzy down to a steady, sure rhythm.
“Thing you said…” I mumbled, drifting off into sleep on top of him. We stayed like that for a good, long time.
§
“The thing about construction is, it takes a long time.” Colt picked up the pitcher of maple syrup. “More?” he asked me.
I shook my head. My stack of pancakes was already dripping. There was only one place in town I’d go for breakfast, and we were at it. Mabel’s. I’d decided to introduce Colt and, so far, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
As were Hannah and my brother Wyatt. The four of us sat together in a red vinyl booth eating enough for eight.
“I’ll take that.” Wyatt grabbed the syrup from Colt and poured more over his giant breakfast plate. He’d called me as we were headed out. It had been Colt’s idea to invite him to join us.
“You’re sure?” I’d asked, Wyatt’s call on mute. We already had Hannah joining us. Maybe it would be smart to introduce Colt to my family and friends one at a time? Then we could win each one over slow and steady like a game of chess.
“Wyatt seems like your only family member who doesn’t hate me,” Colt had replied. “So, yeah, let’s see if he wants to come along.”
“You’re rich, right?” Wyatt asked Colt as he took a big bite of bacon. I choked on my coffee.
“I am rich, Wyatt,” Colt confirmed as he rubbed my back.
“So, if the construction is going to take a long time and Carrie won’t have her bakery back up and running for a while, why don’t you take her someplace cool? I know this amazing spot for fly-fishing near Boulder. You have to backpack to get out there, no roads. Totally off the grid.”
“Not off the grid,” I interrupted, sensing a lengthy, detailed description to follow. “I’ve done enough of that.” Colt and I had had our time on the island. It would always hold a special place in my heart, but as for the next time I enjoyed a waterfront vacation? I wanted plenty of access to electricity, running water, and medical care should the need arise.
“You’re no fun,” Wyatt shook his head.
“You and I can go there sometime,” Colt consoled him. But then he added, glancing back at me, “I do have an idea for a trip I’ve been thinking about.”
“I bet it’s going to be good!” Hannah exclaimed. She wore a leopard-skin pillbox hat tilted rakishly to the side, plus a 1940s style suit with a large lapel and giant buttons. I’d love to see Hannah tell that personal shopper at Saks where to get off. I smiled at her, making a promise to myself that the next time anyone tried to make me feel bad about my body I’d channel my inner Hannah.
“Let this rich guy take you someplace fun!” Wyatt insisted, forking a large lump of scrambled eggs into his mouth. “You never go anywhere.” I gave him a searing look. “Except that trip you took to Fiji,” he mumbled.
“With the whole plane crash and fighting for our lives thing,” I added.
“Yeah, that. But it wasn’t all bad, was it?” He looked at the two of us.
“Nope.” Colt was quick to reply, his hand wrapped around my waist. He liked touching me at all times. I liked it, too.
“It wasn’t all bad,” I agreed, looking down and taking a bite of my pancakes. I knew the water glass I picked up and held in front of my face didn’t hide my fiery blush as I recalled some of the not-so-bad times Colt and I had had together on the island. But bless Hannah and Wyatt, neither of them said anything.
“Seriously, dude.” Wyatt mopped up his eggs with his toast. “Take my sister somewhere good. And don’t crash the plane this time.”
“Caroline and I can discuss it,” Colt assured him, then turned the conversation to more neutral territory. He wanted to make sure Hannah was being asked for input on the re-design of the clothing store.
“Sometimes line-level employees are cut out of the 360 loop, but their input can be exceptionally insightful.”
“Did you understand what he just said?” Hannah stage whispered to me across the table.
“I think he wants to know if Joyce is asking you what you want in the next store.”
“Oh.” Hannah nodded, her hat wobbling as she did it. But it clung on as she told us, with animation, about the multitude of ideas she had for dressmaking and alterations in the middle of the new design, turning it into a custom-made consignment shop. “So you get the look that’s right for you.” She gave me a wink.
“That’s a great tagline,” Colt approved.
“You’re so talented!” I gushed with admiration for my friend.
“Says the baking genius,” she shot right back at me. “Have you told him all about t
he kitchen you want in your new place?” Looking at Colt, she added, “Spare no expense. She’s been through a lot.”
“Believe me, I’m on it,” he assured her.
We made our way through the rest of the meal, though not entirely through the food on our plates, and we emerged full and happy with doggy bags to take with us.
Smiling, I handed Colt the cardboard container in a plastic bag. “Can you even take home your leftovers from those super fancy restaurants where you usually eat?” I couldn’t imagine asking the server at that San Francisco restaurant, or the wait staff at any of the places he’d taken me to in New York City for a doggy bag. They’d probably keel over at the low class request.
“Typically frowned upon,” he admitted.
“Rip off,” Wyatt declared.
“Indeed,” Colt agreed.
At Wyatt’s car, the boys discussed fly-fishing plans. Hannah pulled me aside. “So you and Colt obviously patched things up?”
“Yeah.” A lot had gone down, but that about summed it up.
“I’m so excited for you!” She gave me a big hug. “But how are you feeling about Evan?” She gave my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, a deep well of pity forming in her eyes.
“Hannah!” I cried, exasperated. “I got over him before we even broke up! The only time I think about Evan now is when you ask me if I’m having a hard time—”
“Got ya!” She started cackling, giving my shoulder a little shove. “I know you’re over that dweeb. Like you’d ever give him a moment’s thought now.” She glanced over at Colt, shaking her head. Leaning in, she whispered, “hotter than Christian Gray. Am I right?”
My giggles said it all. She gave him another admiring look. “You lucky duck.”
We all said our goodbyes in the parking lot. “Good to see you, Christian. I mean Colt,” Hannah said as she hugged Colt goodbye, then gave me another wink.
“I didn’t know you knew how to drive a car,” I teased him as we climbed into his rental. He’d taken the liberty of securing himself a brand new luxury SUV as he stayed a couple days in Redwood Bay. I was sure my mother would call the EPA on him if she saw it.
“I am usually driven around cities,” he agreed, good-naturedly taking my sass. “But, yes, I was taught how to drive a car in my youth. So I could relate to the little people.”
“Give you something to talk about with the staff?” I asked.
“Oh, no, you never talk to the staff,” he corrected me.
Smiling, I gazed out the window as he drove us home. I knew we still had no clue how we were going to do this whole thing, supposedly merge our two wildly different worlds and actually date each other. But whatever we did, I knew humor would play a great part in building that bridge. As long as we could laugh about our differences as we figured things out together, I had a feeling we were going to be all right.
“So, as your brother pointed out, I am a rich guy,” he said as we neared my apartment.
“I’m sorry about that.” I brought my hand to my forehead. Subtlety was not a family trait.
“No, it’s fine.” He brushed aside my apology. “It’s true. And it is going to take a while to build your new bakery.”
“How long, do you think?”
“Well, there are all kinds of delays with these projects. Believe me, I’ve seen everything. Even the small ones hit roadblocks with permits and subcontractors not pulling their weight.”
“This doesn’t sound like the usual Colt.” I turned to him. “Usually you’re so full of the can-do spirit.”
“I’m just talking from experience. They tell you six months, it’ll take a year.”
“A year!” I couldn’t imagine it taking that long. I wasn’t planning on asking them to build the Taj Mahal.
“Which might not be so bad,” he continued. “Because there’s other things we could do.” He pulled up in front of my apartment. We both stayed sitting in the car.
“Like what?” I asked. I could tell he had something on his mind. And he looked strangely nervous to talk to me about it.
“I remember, back when we first met, you told me about something you’d always wanted to do.” His hand at the back of his neck, he looked down as if considering his words. Then he looked up into my eyes. “In Paris?”
I held my breath. What was he saying?
“You wanted to study at Le Cordon Bleu,” he reminded me. As if I needed any reminder of the dream I’d harbored since I was 18 years old and got my first job in a bakery. I still looked at him, wide-eyed, too excited and shocked to manage saying anything.
“So…” He looked down again, clearing his throat. “I thought, maybe you and I could, you know, move to Paris.”
“I’d thought about Nebraska,” I blurted out, remembering what I’d been thinking on that flight back from visiting him in New York. I’d thought we’d do well with finding a middle ground, a neutral playing field.
“Nebraska?” He nodded, looking at me, confused, but trying to give it proper consideration.
“Paris is better!” I quickly amended my statement. “But I can’t. It’s so expensive.”
“Caroline, covering the cost of this diploma program is the least I can do after demolishing your store and putting you out of business for months.”
“Colt, I—” I stammered, my heart pounding. “I can’t just enroll. You have to apply. It’s very competitive.”
He didn’t even say anything to that. He just gave me that look, the one that said, “Oh, so you think that’s going to be a problem, do you?” There had been times when I’d found that look arrogant. Now, though? It seemed kind of awesome.
“What, are you on the board of Le Cordon Bleu or something?” I wouldn’t put it past him.
“Not exactly.”
“Are you?”
“No, but I’m sure I know someone who is. Give me a few minutes on the phone and I’ll find someone who knows someone who’ll be more than happy to get you into that program. Caroline, I’ve got an apartment in Paris. It’s on the Seine—”
“Shut up!” I covered my face in my hands.
“Are you OK?” He reached a hand out to my shoulder.
“No, good shut up!” I corrected him. “I mean, this is so…this is—”
“So, you’ll say yes?”
“To living out my lifelong dream?” I was in his lap in seconds flat, kissing him my yes because words were not quite up to the task.
“I know you’ll want to be involved with the plans for the bakery—” he started.
“Fuck it!” I cried out, hands up in the air. “We’re going to Paris!!!!”
CHAPTER 23
Colt
Paris looked good on Caroline. A true work of art deserved a frame of equal beauty, and the city of lights complimented her at every turn. And she delighted in every inch of it.
“Did you see that!” she whispered urgently. It wasn’t the first time she’d said it to me. We’d been there three weeks and I thought I’d heard her exclaim that with delight on almost a daily basis.
“What?” I looked around and saw a variety of sights worth exclaiming over. The menu on the restaurant to our right, offering a feast fit for a king. A thin woman passing on our left who looked like she might be a celebrity, her large sunglasses and giant hat only serving to call more attention to her hidden identity.
“The old man on the bike!” She pointed to a retreating figure, what looked like a little old guy all in black riding away on an old-fashioned bicycle. “He had a baguette in his front basket!” She squeezed my arm in delight.
“That is cool,” I agreed. One of the many charms of Paris was the way its inhabitants took time to appreciate the finer things. Like buying a fresh baguette, and taking your time as you did it, peddling off with it slowly on your bike. In New York, the daily pace was set to a sprint. In Paris, things didn’t exactly pass at a backwater crawl, but Parisians definitely knew how to prioritize the things that mattered.
Like Caroline. I smiled to mys
elf, remembering how back on the island I’d made a mental note-to-self. When I got back to reality, I’d told myself I needed to remember to block off time for the tasks that really required my full attention. CB, I could note it on my calendar. Caroline’s Breasts.
In Paris, I’d been devoting lots of time to doing that particular task. I ran an international company, so it really wasn’t too much of an imposition to base myself out of Europe for a while. It made getting over to Asia faster, for one, and we had plenty of ventures growing rapidly there.
I had a great new COO in place, Tim, the young kid out of HBS who’d served as my assistant for the past couple years. He was only a couple years younger than me, actually, but I got a kick out of calling him kid. He called me old man. It was all good.
People thought I was a little crazy taking a chance on a young, untested guy without years of experience under his belt. But, then, people had said the same thing about me when I’d taken over after my father. I liked Tim’s vision, his unflagging energy and his openness to new ideas. He got it, without my having to explain how quickly our world was changing all the time now, and how nimble we had to be as investors to take advantage. I had full confidence in my staffing decision.
And it gave me some room to take my foot off the gas pedal. Slightly. I now realized when I’d had Leonard at my side, I’d never had a moment’s rest. I’d never trusted him and therefore always had to keep an eye on what he was doing. Plus, I’d done too much marching to the beat of his drum, following his advice. I wouldn’t have even gone to Redwood Bay to check in on that environmental protest had it not been for his suggestion.
He’d been wrong about the protest being a big enough problem that it merited my time. But that was one mistake for which I would be eternally grateful.
“What time is your next class today?” I asked Caroline as we strolled, arm in arm, post lunch back to our apartment.
“Three o’clock. So we’re in no rush.”
“My favorite answer,” I responded, patting her hand. “Did you invite Olivia over for dinner tomorrow?” She’d become friendly with another woman in her class, a fellow baker, obviously, who’d traveled from the UK to attend the world-famous cooking school.
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