Whoa. This could get serious.
Chapter 14
Fletch guided me down the dark, quiet street, his hand firm on the small of my back. I shivered at his touch, thinking about Fletcher, sex, and the unexpected revelations he’d shared.
His father’s suicide forced me to see him in a whole new light. I could now accept the lawsuit because I understood why he’d moved so aggressively to protect his family and their company. Easy to understand his reflex to defend, exercised so frequently during the last thirteen years. Twenty-two was young, far too young for Fletcher to have taken on responsibilities which would have overwhelmed a lesser man.
He’d been forced to take frightening risks with his family’s future. Brave and bold, he’d overcome all obstacles to achieve a startling level of success.
I could almost forgive him for suing me for—yikes—fifteen million dollars. Fletcher, deeply loyal, wouldn’t have hesitated to take me and my company apart if it had proven necessary. The solution he’d orchestrated had its occasional frustrations, but I had to admit that I was far better off with Fletch as an ally rather than an enemy.
“Males are really very simple,” he’d told me once. I wanted to laugh at the memory. Nothing about him was simple. His past, his motives, the way he operated to get to his goals … all were as subtle and intricate as Esme’s embroidery. Lucky for me that he’d decided Cara Fletcher Couture was a worthy acquisition...or had he? “What use do I have for a clothing company?” he’d asked.
He reminded me of the drawings of the artist M.C. Escher. Your eye traveled up one twisting staircase only to go down or across another, in a never-ending spiral of trick-the-eye, fool-the-mind complexity. Fletcher fascinated me. No, there was nothing simple about the man, and he was now impossible to ignore.
He seemed totally fixated on me. That was more than a little frightening. He’d engineered me into the most romantic setting imaginable… How had I let him maneuver me into this situation? Alone in a foreign country, staying in a private suite in a Florentine palace with the most devastating, dangerous corporate raider on the East Coast, who had designs on me, my body and my company. He wanted me, wanted me badly, wanted me enough to take a five million dollar risk, just to have…me.
The stunning realization overwhelmed me, and I stumbled over a loose stone in the walkway.
He pulled me closer. “Are you feeling all right? You seemed shaky for a second.”
“I’m fine.” I put my arm around his waist, steadying myself.
I warned myself to be careful. I wanted him too, had wanted him since first setting my eyes on the mysterious, compelling stranger in the courthouse hallway. His presence in my life had become as indispensable as breath, and he knew it. He’d created a situation where, like the settlement conference, I didn’t want to say “no.” He didn’t need to force anything. Instead, he spoiled, indulged, and romanced me into submission.
Still in the throes of indecision—would I? should I?—I stopped to stare as we rounded a corner. The Ponte Vecchio lay before us, displayed across the Arno like a fabulous gift. Despite the late hour, the bridge was still lit by the windows of the shops built on it. The gentle sound of the water flowing calmed my nerves, and I was able to look at him. Fletch’s chiseled profile, silhouetted by the bridge’s lights, seemed to soften as he bent his dark head toward me.
He was so beautiful, inside and out, that I couldn’t stop herself. I reached up, slid one hand behind his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He responded immediately, urging me into a closer embrace. His tongue probed, plunged, probed again, turning me on, lighting a fire that only he could bring and that only he could quench.
My mouth was a live wire zinging pleasure through my body. I sucked greedily, curling my tongue around his, playing with him, needing to give him as much joy as he gave me with his slightest caress.
Breathless with excitement and anticipation, I broke away to draw in some air. He ran a fingertip along my bangs, ending at my earlobe, which he pinched gently, then took between his lips, nibbling. He feathered his lips along my neck, and I shivered again, bending back my throat. My neck is very sensitive, and I knew kisses there would take me even higher.
Dammit, he let me go. “That’s the first time you kissed me.” His voice was deep with pleasure.
“We’ve kissed plenty of times.”
He shook his head. “I’ve kissed you. You’ve responded, but this is the first time you’ve kissed me. Do it some more, baby.”
Grinning, I pulled his head closer and nibbled on his lower lip. He sighed into my mouth, his breath scented with Chianti. Yum. I kissed deeper, tugging on his suit jacket while he wrapped one arm around me. He began to walk along the riverbank toward the hotel.
Feverish with anticipation, I couldn’t keep my hands off him. I undid two buttons on his shirt and slipped my hand into the slit to caress his chest as he pushed at the revolving doors of the hotel.
“Oh, Cara, you wicked woman.” His voice dropped to a growl as he kept me close by his side.
The lobby, dark, quiet and a little scary, stifled my giggles. I rushed into the elevator, and he followed, attacking me again, slipping down the shoulder of my dress to expose more skin as the elevator slid smoothly to our floor.
Laughing, I slipped away from his grasp and hurried down the hall to our door. Fletch fumbled with the large, ornate key. An eternity passed before the door swung open, an eternity in which my heart hammered and the blood rushed through my veins like Niagara.
Lit only by the moonlight streaming through the suite’s open curtains, Fletch slammed the door. Pulling me close, he tore at the buttons on the back of my dress while I tugged on his belt buckle. I pulled his zipper down and let his trousers drop to the floor.
“So long, so long, it’s been so long...” the chant sang through my blood, running hot and wild as I jerked at the knot of his tie. Fumble-fingered, I let go, and he took over loosening the tie, smiling. I focused on ripping off his shirt as fast as I could. I wanted to see him naked. He toed off his shoes and stepped out of his pants.
He pulled me into his arms for a kiss, our first full-body-contact embrace. It was amazing. I adored the glorious feel of his naked flesh touching mine. I burst with awareness, brimming with want and need.
Nude except for lingerie, I tried to drag him to my room, but he resisted. What the hell? I laughed when I realized that he was trying to drag me to his bed.
I guess we have to decide which bedroom to use.” He kissed my fingers, then nibbled, with an exciting blend of savagery and delicacy.
“Let’s try both. How big is your bed?”
Still holding hands, he went to check out my suite, heading into the bathroom first. “Oh, this is nice. I have only a stall shower.” He turned both taps on the marble tub. “Did they give you any bubble bath?”
I rifled through the basket of toiletries the hotel provided. “No, but there’s shampoo.” I opened the small plastic bottle and poured the pink contents into the tub. Scented foam burst from the water. “Perfect.”
“Let me get in first and you can climb on me.”
“Sure, but there’s plenty of room. I guess those ancient Florentines liked to bathe.” Leaning over the rim, I poked a finger into the tub. “Youch, real hot. We’ll have to let it cool down.” I straightened up.
“I can think of something to do in the meantime.” He nuzzled my neck and turned me around to face him.
His eyes had turned serious, dark wild honey with flecks of gold. He captured my mouth in a deep soul kiss that sought and reached right into my heart. “Love me, Cara.” His lips flickered over my neck, and I groaned from want. He leisurely slid his lips down and along my shoulder, then lower to take my breast, sucking my nipple in and out of his mouth in a seductive, blatantly sexual rhythm. I felt as though I was going to explode from pleasure.
Suddenly I was in the air, clutching his shoulders as he carried me into the living room. My heartbeat tripled. He sat me on the couch and knelt in fron
t of me, opening my legs with a gentle but persuasive hand. My flesh rippled, and I let my head fall against the back of the sofa.
He stroked through the curls at the notch between my thighs, fingering the moist folds. He tugged my hips to the edge of the sofa, then bent his dark head, the streaks in his hair shining silver in the moonlight. His tongue, warm and wet, touched me tenderly, and I shivered with anticipation and delight. A finger slid inside me, and I sucked in a breath at the intrusion. Though welcome, no part of a man’s body had been inside mine for a very long time.
He stilled, letting his finger rest in my sheath. “Cara, honey. How long has it been?”
A little embarrassed, I squirmed. “Not for a while. Not since Natalie came to live with me.”
“What’s that, eight or nine months?” I realized with relief that Fletcher’s tone wasn’t judgmental. “I don’t feel a diaphragm or anything inside you, baby. Are you on the pill?”
I appreciated the question, since I’d forgotten about the issue in the heat of the moment. “No.”
He rose and looked around while I leaned against the brocaded back of the sofa and watched him. The darkness emphasized his innate wildness while the shifting moonlight made his developed muscles gleam like carved statuary, as rough and as beautiful as a Rodin sculpture. I was going to touch and caress each sharply cut curve and plane with my fingers, my mouth, my tongue. I was going to make love to every inch of his gorgeous self in every way I could think of.
“Where are my pants?”
“What do you need those for?” I laughed.
He found them on the carpet near the coffee table and fumbled in the pocket, withdrawing a small square packet. “This.” Opening it, he protected us both as he returned.
“And you?” I asked. I had to know. I’d die if I was just his bedmate of the week.
“Hmmm?” He kissed me intimately once again. The hum vibrated through his lips into my most tender places. I grabbed onto his shoulders for support as I softened, buckled. He hummed again, then pulled away. “Did you have a question, honey?”
I recaptured my breath and managed to speak. “How long has it been for you?”
He rocked back onto his heels. “You beat me out, but I haven’t been with a woman since before I saw your cute little self prancing down the courthouse hallway in those high heels you like to wear.” He chuckled appreciatively, and I gathered he’d liked those damn shoes.
“Really?” I was relieved, though I kinda had figured that he was unattached. We’d been together constantly for several weeks, and the only women who phoned him were his secretary and his mother.
“Really. I figured it was a while for you, too.” His hand, busy between my legs, continued to tease and play with me. Pleasure, like bright shafts of color, tore through me. I couldn’t focus on anything else and threw back my head, gasping in short, sharp pants. “You’re nice and tight for me, baby. I want you so much, Carissima mia. Let me love you.”
He positioned himself and slowly pushed in. I gripped his forearms in an agony of waiting, willing myself to relax and open to him. I assumed he’d be big, like the rest of his frame, but I’d forgotten the reality of a man’s sex thrusting into me. The sense of fullness made me heat, melt, moan. Stretching, my body drew him in. I clung to him, moaning and shaking. God, I needed this, needed him.
He kissed my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks and then my mouth, lingering there, his tongue echoing his movements inside. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry, but I can’t wait.” He reached between us, stroking me again, forcing me higher, faster.
My mind went blank as I came, writhing in his arms. He let himself go, thrusting hard, gripping my hips, trembling with the intensity of his release.
Spent, we curled together on the couch until our bodies calmed. I loved this mellow bliss, and wanted it never to end.
Finally, I raised my head from its pillow on his shoulder. My skin prickled with cooling sweat.
He kissed my hair. “How ’bout that bath?” Lacing my fingers in his, he led me to the bath. “You’re right. This huge tub will easily fit both of us.” Sticking a toe in, he said, “Come on in, the water’s fine.”
He leaned against the tub’s sloping end opposite the taps, which seemed to fit his back perfectly. I didn’t want the taps in my back, so I clambered in and adjusted myself on top of him. “Comfy, Carissima?”
“Not bad.”
He closed his eyes, and I felt his muscles loosen in the warm water. I picked up a washcloth and dragged it across his chest. He hummed with pleasure. I held the cloth high, letting water drip from it onto his nipples. They stiffened. I slid the washcloth over his belly, then down to his groin. He hardened in response and reached for me, but I wasn’t going to make it so easy. I slithered out of his reach, laughing.
“Come here, you fox.” He fluffed some bubbles at me. They caught on my breasts, and his gaze homed in on them. He sat up and flicked one of my nipples. I guess it didn’t harden fast enough to satisfy him, so he took its tip between thumb and forefinger, squeezing and rolling until it pointed. The pleasure, slightly tinctured with a delicate ache, made me whimper with renewed desire. He tasted, sucked, then went for the other one. Apparently he believed in equal time for both breasts. He nibbled until I moaned and reached for him.
I caressed him through the cloth, and his sex, already swollen, hardened even more. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he growled.
I tightened my grip. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing. Don’t you think so, Fletch, honey?”
He grabbed my hips and I yelped, dropping the washcloth with a splash. Taking it, he rubbed it between my legs, kneading the sweetest spot through the cloth. I was in heaven. Tossing it aside, he pulled me on top, and I eased down on him carefully. I was a little sore and didn’t want to push myself. His face showed his impatience and lust, but I dragged out the initial entry. He could wait. I knew that the taunting and the teasing would make it even better. When at last he impaled me completely, I let myself sag onto his chest as I swiveled my hips around him. I gave him tight little tugs from the muscles that held him captive as I climaxed. He came so hard I thought he was going to hurt me, but somehow, I took everything he had to give and still wanted more.
The water had cooled when I untangled myself from Fletch’s limbs and, stiff, climbed out of the tub. He opened one eye to look at me. I loved the drowsy contentment on his face.
“I’ll never look at a bathtub the same way again.” I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel, and offered one to him.
“Mmm.” He climbed out of the tub and kissed my hair. “My bed or yours?”
~*~
Sunlight streaming through the yellow curtains awakened me. Seated on the side of our bed, Fletch pressed a phone to his ear with one hand and held one of his ever-present guidebooks in the other.
“Nescafe, per favore, e panna. No, no, caffe nero. La panna separamente, per favore. Sí, accanto. Miele a panino, uh, panini. Um, frutta.” He flipped pages frantically while I struggled not to giggle. “Not frutta. Frutti, um, macedonia di frutta.” He put the phone down. “If we end up with dinosaur eggs for breakfast, I apologize. Next time, the Radisson.”
“No way. Does the Radisson have brocade couches and giant antique bathtubs? I love this place.”
“Then we’ll come back every year. Buon giorno, Carissima. Sleep well?” He leaned over and kissed me. It was a long, lingering sweet one.
Of course, I kissed back. “Mmm-hmm. And you?”
“Oh yeah, except that a wild woman attacked me over and over last night.” He caressed my breast with a broad, open palm.
I grinned. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
“Oh, I didn’t. But I didn’t get much rest. I might have to stay in bed today just to make up for my lost sleep.”
A few minutes later, a knock at the door signaled that breakfast had arrived, and he grabbed the hotel’s toweling robe before going to the suite’s door. He returned pushing a cart loaded with fragrant
food: coffee, rolls, honey, and fruit compote served in cut crystal bowls.
I sat up in bed, ignoring my nakedness. Last night’s mullet hadn’t hit the spot—nowhere near it, really—and I was starving. I let the sheet crumple around my waist as I reached for a roll.
“Slow down, my little piglet. You’ll get food in the bed.”
“So what? There’s another one.” I bit, letting, crumbs scatter. The roll tasted delicious, crunchy on the outside, but soft and sweet within, redolent with herbs.
“Good point. Mmm. I think I’ll have my breakfast right here.” He leaned over and licked crumbs off my nipples. They promptly hardened.
I dropped the roll.
He said, “Tasty, but I can make it even better. Lie down, baby.” He stuck a spoon in the crystal honey pot, then dribbled the gooey mess onto my chest.
“What are you doing?” Startled, I tried to get up.
His firm hand forced me back down onto the pillows. “I’m just making a little breakfast.”
Something inside me shook, trembled. “This is, this is too weird for me.”
“Oh, come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Using both hands, he rubbed honey into my breasts, mixing it with the crumbly roll.
Whoa. Bits of bread rasped my nipples. Then Fletcher’s warm, wet mouth sucked one tip hard, then moved to the other breast. His morning beard grazed the soft valley between my breasts while a sticky hand slid behind one knee, spreading me wide.
More honey dripped, this time onto the nest of curls at my delta. As the honey warmed with contact, it became slicker, hotter...like I was.
I stretched and arched. Random morsels of bread scratched my back, my thighs, as he kissed honey from between my legs. The rub of his tongue pushing a bread crumb across my most sensitive flesh took me out of my mind. Languid and soft, I opened myself to him as he rose above me, pressing his erection against me before he moved inside. He rubbed sticky hands up and down my breasts as he thrust. He sank in, gasping.
~*~
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 166