by Serena Grey
It’s probably just my imagination, I tell myself. I want to turn away, but my body rebels, compelling me to keep drowning in his gaze. Tears tease in my eyes, fueled by the unbearable yearning inside me. It feels as if I’m imprisoned by my feelings for him. I can’t shake them. I can’t will them away. The more I try, the more they tear me up inside. It’s like I’m struggling against invisible bindings and only making them tighter.
He starts to move, and it seems like he’s coming towards me. Heat sizzles in my blood, my chest tightening in a mixture of excitement and anxiety. At that moment, someone starts to talk on the mic, the chairperson of the board of the Remington Trust. I can’t hear what she’s saying. I can only see Landon, and feel the exquisite sensation of his eyes on me.
Then I hear his name, and the spell is broken. He looks away from me as people start to clap. I watch him move to the front, and begin to tell the attendees how honored he feels to be able to return the paintings to the Remington collection and contribute to the legacy of the place. When he’s done. The director of the Trust calls my mother up to talk about the two paintings and the artist. I try to hear what’s being said, to listen to the words, but the only thing running through my head is Landon, and the fact that he’s only a few feet away.
I watch his profile as he listens to my mother’s speech. Did he know she would be here? Even if he had, there was no way he’d have known that I’d be here too. Even the fates were conspiring to throw us together, it seemed.
When my mother comes back, I see him turn again towards us. One of the members of the Trust approaches him and they talk for a few moments, then as the man walks away, Landon starts in our direction.
I panic. Of course, he’s going to come and say hello to my parents. He’s too polite not to. And then I’ll have to stand here, smile at him, and act as if I’m not totally torn up inside.
“I’ll be right back,” I mutter to Laurie before hurrying away, out of the ballroom. I’m running away, but I don’t care. Outside, there’s a Remington House staff to direct me to the ladies room. In the lonely solace I find there, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are wide, my skin flushed. I wish I could pour cold water from the tap on my skin, to calm my blood, to stop my heart from racing wildly.
Landon only had to look at me to make me lose all sensible thought. Why was it so hard to be in control of myself whenever I saw him? My mind goes back to yesterday, to those heated words he’d whispered in my ear, and I hug myself tightly.
I’m tempted to leave. I could go home right now, give my parents some sort of excuse as to why I had to abandon them, and find a cab to take me to the solace of my bed. There’s a persistent internal instinct urging me to do just that, and I would, if not that I know running away is as good as telling Landon how weak I am.
It takes a couple of deep breaths before I’m sure I’m calm and collected enough to return to the ballroom. I make my way back, desperately hoping that maybe Landon would have left, that I wouldn’t have to face him.
I’m only a few feet from the doors when they open and he steps out. I stop walking, my whole body freezing at the sight of him.
He doesn’t see me at first, because he’s facing the direction of the exits, then as if he senses me, he stops walking and turns to face me.
I can’t look at him without feeling crushed by pain, but I can’t look away either. His gaze envelopes my body, reaching deep inside me to the places where all I want is to be whatever he needs me to be. I try to give him a polite, casual smile, but my heart is aching, and my face refuses to obey.
I’ll never stop wanting him, I realize now. I’ll never stop wanting to be with him.
It’s only a moment. Him, looking at me, his mask dropping so that the longing in his face is plain for me to see, then the mask is on again. He turns away without a word and heads for the exit.
There is a pain in watching him go, an unbearable agony that builds in my heart and spreads through my blood until I feel like I’m drowning in it. I watch him as he walks away and I know that I’m being a fool. That I don’t want to let him go. That I can’t let him go.
He’s already at the doors. I take a step forward, towards his retreating back. Common sense screams at me to turn away, but everything else is crying out for him. He pushes the doors open and I watch them slam shut after him, like the pounding of a gavel proclaiming the end for us. It galvanizes me into action, and I run forward, pushing outside just in time to see the black limo slide to a stop in front of him.
He opens the door himself and starts to get in.
“Landon. Wait.” My voice sounds desperate, even to me. But it works. He stops, his hand still on the handle, and turns around to face me. I’m still standing at the building entrance, and I take a few steps towards him, unsure of what I’ll say when I get to him. I only know that I can’t bear for him to leave.
I stop at the edge of the sidewalk, only a few feet from him. “Landon…” I make an attempt to find suitable words, but he makes them unnecessary. In two strides, he has closed the distance between us, one moment, I’m searching for words, and the next his lips are devouring mine. One hand snakes around my waist, while the other flexes at my nape, angling me towards him with a possessive determination that leaves me weak.
I clutch his jacket, a low moan escaping me as his tongue plunges into my mouth, moving against mine, and taking control of my senses. I’m desperate to remove every last barrier between us. I’m eager to surrender every last part of me. I’m tired of fighting the way I feel. I can no sooner stop wanting him than I can stop the sun from rising, and it’s no use fighting it.
Landon releases my lips, his chest heaving. I can feel the tension in his muscles, the consuming heat of his body, and his arousal, hard against my belly. “Fuck,” he swears harshly. There’s an edge of desperation in his voice that mirrors what I’m feeling. His hand tightens around my waist. “What are you trying to do to me?” he says roughly. “What do you want from me?”
I gaze up at his face, the face I love, the familiar features that are so endearingly perfect. His eyes are digging into mine, smoky, and hot with desire. “I want you.” The admission comes out in a low but determined whisper.
His chest expands. “Stop playing games with me,” he warns. “Go back inside and join your family.” I shake my head and he lets out a hot breath. “Or you can come with me, Rachel, and just so you know. I’m not going to stop until I’ve fucked you senseless.”
I sway in his arms, the force of heat and arousal that surges through me at his words making me unsteady on my feet. As his arms tighten around me, I know that, at that moment, I would go anywhere with him.
I meet his eyes. “Let’s go.”
His gaze darkens, his eyes flicking over my face, then he releases me and takes a step back, holding the door of the car open for me.
I climb into the luxurious interior and shift to the far side, my eyes on Landon as he slides in to join me. I can barely keep my hands to myself. I’m excited, shaking, hungry for him, unable to wait any longer to give in to what I’ve denied my body for far too long.
“The Swanson Court?” The limo driver’s voice is an unwelcome intrusion into my thoughts. Landon tears his eyes from mine and turns towards the driver. “Just drive,” he orders, then presses a button to raise the privacy partition. When we’re alone, he turns to me, and his eyes travel from my face, and down the length of my body. Moving so quickly that I barely have the time to register his intention, he reaches for me, his hand sliding under my nape to pull my face towards his.
“God, I want you,” he growls.
I sigh, feeling my nipples tightening beneath my clothes. I want him so much. I run my tongue over my bottom lip, and he groans. The next moment his tongue is sliding into my mouth, hot, demanding, hungry... I let him in with an eager moan, reveling in the taste – the feel of him.
His free hand slides under my dress, pulling up the material while stroking my thighs. His touch ignit
es my skin, even as my senses drown in the taste, feel and scent of him. His fingers reach the juncture of my thighs and he presses his palm against my core, touching me through the lace of my panties. I moan against his lips, already wet, pulsing, hot, and aching for him. I spread my legs as much as my dress will allow, my fingers tangling in his hair.
He pushes the crotch of my panties to the side and slides his fingers over my wet folds. I rub my body eagerly against his fingers, going crazy from his touch. He pulls his lips from mine and holds my gaze, watching my face as he slides his thumb inside me.
I cry out, my body clenching sweetly around his probing digit, trying to pull him deeper.
“You want me,” he whispers fiercely.
“Yes,” I whimper, grinding my hips.
He pulls out the thumb and replaces it with two hooked fingers, stroking my sensitive walls while he teases my clit with his wet thumb. He strokes it lightly, sending sparks of sensation to my brain with each touch. “Say it,” he insists.
“I want you,” I cry softly. “I want you so much.”
His chest expands with a huge breath, and he continues to fuck me with his fingers, pumping them fast while his thumb massages my clit. My moans are loud and uninhibited as I offer myself to him, my hips bucking wildly. When he stops, I feel like I’m going to die.
He lifts me with both hands, positioning me so I’m straddling him. I undo his pants, eager to touch him, to hold his cock in my hands, to have him deep inside me. His hands are also eager as he lifts my dress up to my waist before pulling down my panties. He gets them to mid-thigh before he loses patience and I hear them rip, but I don’t care. I pull down his briefs, and he lifts his hips to help me. His cock springs free, hard and hot, thickly veined and fully erect.
“Oh, Landon,” I sigh, my whole body melting with desire.
I position myself over him, throwing my head back when the wide head of his cock touches the slick entrance to my body. His hand tightens at my waist, holding me still and preventing me from sliding down his full length. I look questioningly at him, not sure why he’s waiting.
“Are you ready?” His voice, like his body, is strained and tense, like he’s holding on to the last remnants of his control.
“Yes.” If he waits any longer, I’ll have to beg. “Yes, Landon, please.”
Still holding my waist, he flexes his hips and pushes upwards, stretching me sweetly as he slides deep inside me.
I let out a soft moan, unable to control myself. “Landon,” I cry out, my voice weak. “Oh God, Landon.” I don’t know how I’ve managed without this, without him for so long.
His hands flex, stroking feverishly from my waist to my hips and thighs. “Rachel.” He closes his eyes, his chest heaving.
I brace my hands on the seat behind him and slowly rock my hips upwards until just the tip of his cock is inside me. Then, shuddering with pleasure, I push back down till he’s buried to the hilt again.
He lets out a harsh growl, then his hands are back at my waist, gripping tightly as he starts to pump upwards, the thrusts fast, deep, and hard. My whole body turns to liquid as I collapse against him, crying out as each delicious thrust fills me with delirious pleasure.
He finds my lips and kisses me deeply, stroking my tongue in time with his movements. The pleasure builds to an explosive peak and the world disappears, everything disappears apart from Landon, and the wonderful sensation of his cock stroking in and out of me.
My body tightens, my insides gripping him, then pulsing uncontrollably as I explode. I hear my voice, crying out helplessly, saying his name as the sensations paralyze me. Landon groans, then he’s moving, still inside me. He lays me on my back and continues to thrust inside me, his movements almost feral, his face clouded with a raw arousal that makes me want him even more.
Heat builds between my legs again, stoked by his quickened thrusts, and his voice, saying my name over and over. This time, my scream is incoherent. My whole body shatters, and my hips buck wildly, my heated core tightening sweetly around his pulsing cock. He rears into me with a harsh groan and I feel the warmth of his orgasm spurting inside me.
He’s still breathing deeply when he pulls out of me. His arms snake around me and he nudges me upright, smoothing my dress over my thighs before adjusting his pants. My body feels light, languid and sensual. I want to hold on to the way I’m feeling for as long as I can.
I’m surprised when he leans towards me and kisses me on the lips. This time the kiss is slow and gentle. “You’re okay?” he asks, pulling back to look at me. There’s a small smile on his face.
My face heats a little. I feel better than okay, actually. I feel heavenly. I return his smile, watching as he pushes my wrecked panties into his pants pocket. “Yes, I’m fine.”
He reaches for my hair, smoothing it with his fingers and pushing the tousled strands back from my face. His touch is so gentle that I close my eyes and lean into it. I’ve missed his gentleness. In fact, I’ve missed him, period.
When he’s satisfied, he lowers the partition and in a few clipped words instructs the driver to take us to the Swanson Court Hotel.
“My parents will be wondering where I am,” I muse, wondering how much time has passed since we left the Remington House.
“You’re in no condition to go back there,” Landon says. He doesn’t look at all regretful about that fact. “Call them. Tell them you decided to leave.”
“Hmmm,” I frown. “What about Aidan?”
“I was already leaving when you saw me.” He chuckles. “Aidan has plans to indulge in the free champagne. He told me he doesn’t mind walking home.” He shrugs, then spends a few seconds just looking at my face. “I’m not letting you go tonight,” he tells me.
My eyes flutter closed, my body shivering in anticipation. I don’t argue. I don’t want to leave him either. I’ve been punishing myself all week, and I’ve been walking around with a numbing emptiness that I don’t feel anymore. For the first time in days, I feel alive. This is what I want, to be with him, and there’s no point trying to fight it.
His hand closes over mine. I feel the possessiveness there, and in his eyes I see relief. What happens now? I wonder. Have I given my assent, with my actions, to his offer of a relationship? And what did that mean for me? That I had accepted to stick my head in the sand and take whatever he offered until the day I dreaded finally arrived?
As the limo enters the underground parking lot of the Swanson Court Hotel, Landon squeezes my hand, gently. At that moment, I decide to stop thinking, to stop waiting for the end, to stop trying to protect myself from heartache, and instead, allow myself to enjoy the moment.
LANDON’S Swanson Court apartment is the same as I remember from that first night. Still incredibly spacious, and still beautiful. It has only being a few weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. I can’t resist the smile as I remember choking on my drink when I realized that he thought I was a hooker. With everything that’s happened since then, it seems so long ago.
On the walls, the few paintings and pictures are hanging where I remember. The photo of the ballerina is still center stage. Landon’s mother, who died in a car crash when he was nine. I study the ethereally beautiful face for a moment, then turn to watch as Landon tosses his jacket on a chair. “Drink?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I’m great.” I’ve already sent a text to tell my mom that I wasn’t feeling well and decided to go home. I sent another one to Laurie, telling her the truth.
Landon nods, then comes toward me and takes both my hands in his. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, his voice somber.
I melt inside. “Me too.”
“Come on then,” he says, leading me towards the stairs. I follow him upstairs, past the bedroom where we spent that first night, to a larger, cozier one. There are personal touches in this room. A picture frame of his family in happier times. His tablet, some books. This is where he lives.
Landon takes my purse from me and sets it on the nightstand,
then he faces me, his eyes seem to be drinking me in. “I’ve imagined you here so many times, it’s hard to believe that you actually are.” His words send a flush of pleasure through me, and I tremble as he strokes my cheek. “I’ve missed you.”
I lean my head on his chest, feeling as if a huge weight has been lifted from me. “I’ve missed you too,” I whisper, finally free of the torture of having to pretend, to having to force myself to accept a life without him.
“I can’t stop looking at you.” He chuckles self-mockingly, making me smile with happiness, and an aching gratitude to be so close to him again. “You have no idea how it’s been for me, with you across town, so close, and yet… So unwilling to have anything to do with me.”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t unwilling.” I look up and meet his eyes. “I just... I didn’t want things to get irreversibly complicated.”
He laughs. “It’s too late for that.”
Closing my eyes, I breathe in the scent of his skin. He’s right, of course. It’s too late. We’re already irreversibly complicated. I warp my arms around his waist, feeling his firm muscles under my fingers, and I start to think that maybe I should tell him now how I really feel. How afraid I’ve been that one day he’ll hurt me. But I stay silent, because I want to enjoy this moment for as long as possible, and ignore my fears for as long as I can.
“You sure you don’t want anything?”
“Maybe some water?”
He nods. “Bathroom’s over there.” He points me towards a door, then leaves me on my own. On the other side of the door, there’s a spacious suite with a dressing room separated into two wings, and a luxurious bathroom.
I take a warm shower, then towel myself dry, before going over to the dressing room. One of the wings is filled with Landon’s clothes arranged in numerous racks, shelves, and drawers. It’s easy to find his t-shirts. I pick one and pull it on. It’s too big for me, of course, but it’s comfortable and smells of fresh laundry, and of Landon.