by Mia Caldwell
It had been a while since her last lover, and her body winced at the intrusion for just an instant before relaxing and accepting his offering. He filled her slowly, an inch at a time, until she was gasping with pleasure and hanging on the precipice of another release. This one would be so much stronger than the last one, and she couldn’t hold back from thrusting against him mindlessly.
Apparently, Sawyer had a little more control than she did, because his hands went to her hips to still them, and he kept them there, moving her in conjunction with him so they shared a rhythm. The head of his cock dragged against her g-spot with each entry, making it even harder to follow the pace he set.
They moved together urgently, not breaking the rhythm until they were both almost at the edge. Suddenly, Sawyer grunted hoarsely, and his thrusts became less choreographed. When his hands on her hips loosened, she once again surrendered to the wild need inside her as she bucked and arched against him.
It was wild and almost feral, but they came together in a state of reckless abandon. The warmth of his release was evident even through the condom, and her body continued to convulse around him several moments after they had both climaxed.
Eventually, he rolled away long enough to deal with the condom before returning to her, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight against him. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, and soon his body had relaxed.
She didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed when he started to snore softly a few moments later. Finally, she decided it was sweet that he had he gotten so worn out from their vigorous sex. Stifling a loud yawn, she realized she had as well and allowed her body’s natural instinct to lead her into curling against him. He was only a few inches taller, but his broad shoulders and narrow waist, along with his defined arms, made her feel safe and secure. She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her lips.
Chapter Six
She woke before him, sliding from bed quietly so as not to disturb him. Nadia went into the bathroom and turned on the ridiculously luxurious shower with its multiple jet sprays and large shower head. It was almost as sensual as the night she’d just spent with her lover.
As she soaped herself, she repeated the word mentally. It was difficult to reconcile Sawyer the Playboy with Sawyer the Lover. At least her lover. Never in a million years could she have imagined ending up in bed with him, but it was difficult to regret what had happened when she still felt so languorous and relaxed. His lovemaking had left her sated, though she was certainly ready for round two.
Nadia shook her head, reminding herself not to use the term lovemaking, though it was simply a common descriptor. She wanted no part of love with Sawyer, and it was for the best to keep the concept of Sawyer and love separate in all contexts. The last thing she needed to do was fall for the playboy billionaire during their impetuous wild fling.
The glass door of the shower stall opening interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to him with a sexy smile. He looked cautious, making her frown. “Is something wrong?”
Sawyer shook his head, his anxiety visibly abating. “Not with me, but I kind of expected morning-after regrets or a bunch of recriminations. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d kicked me out of the shower instead of welcoming me into it.”
Making an attempt to hide the fact she had been ruminating about a small number of regrets, she forced a brighter smile. “Why would I do that? It was the best sex of my life, and I’m certainly ready for another go if you are. After all, we don’t want to waste our week of orgasms.”
She thought she had struck the perfect note of lighthearted and casual, but he still frowned slightly, though he didn’t speak. He was clearly thinking about something, but definitely not in a mood to share it. Glancing down, she saw he was certainly in a mood to share something else though.
Sensuously, she doled out a palm full of slippery bath gel from the dispenser and rubbed it between her hands before dropping to her knees on the shower floor. Pulses and streams of water beat down on her head, and she was thankful she’d had the foresight to shove her newly straightened hair under a cap before getting in the shower.
He drew in a ragged breath as she encompassed the length of him in her hands, spreading the soap and prolonging his torture as she squeezed and flexed her hand around him. Once she was certain he was clean, she moved slightly to the side to allow a stream of water to land directly on his hardness. He groaned, but it seemed to be a sound of pleasure rather than pain.
A moment later, she wrapped her now suds-less hand around the base of his penis and guided the shaft toward her mouth. His hand settled on her shower cap with a crackling plastic sound as he pressed lightly against her head. Feeling confident and naughty, she opened her mouth and took as much of him as she could in one smooth motion. He groaned and thrust his hips, clearly not expecting her to move so quickly or take so much.
Nadia sucked and bobbed her head as her tongue stroked him, all the while continuing to rotate the hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He was hard in her hand, and she could feel him swelling in her mouth a second before he started to twitch. He came with a soft moan, and she swallowed his release, leaning her head slightly to the side to wash away in a discreet manner what she couldn’t contain.
A moment later, he had her on her feet again, this time his hands soaped and moving over her body. She didn’t bother to protest or tell him she had already washed. Instead, she enjoyed his soap-slippery hands moving across her breasts, teasing her nipples, and roaming down her sides. One hand moved between her legs, so she parted her thighs as much as possible in the position, and then whimpered when he sank two fingers deep inside her as his thumb circled her clit. She arched against him, enjoying the stimulation, even as she wished it was his cock instead.
As though he had read her mind, Sawyer pulled her closer to him, her soapy chest rubbing against his and pressing her crinkled nipples into the lightly haired chest against hers. They both gasped at the contact, and hers turned to a keening cry as he hooked his fingers inside her and rubbed her g-spot until she came.
The first wave of orgasm had barely even faded before he lifted her against the wall, wrapping one of her legs around his hips, and surged inside her. She eyed him uncertainly, realizing neither one of them had protection.
“It’s okay. I won’t come. I just want to feel your sweet pussy around me for a few moments.” He thrust shallowly into her a few times before pulling away with an obvious groan.
Looking tortured, he paused to give her a deep kiss before reaching past her to turn off the water. She didn’t argue as he took her hand and pulled her from the bathroom, not even taking time for a towel. A moment later, he pushed her down on his bed, her face in the pillow, as his bedside drawer slid open with an audible squeal.
The welcome sound of the condom wrapper tearing came next, and then he was pushing himself inside her, taking her from behind as he cupped her breasts. It was a position she had never really enjoyed in the past, finding it slightly degrading. However, she was so lost in her need, and the pleasure he gave her, that she not only endured having him take her from behind, she welcomed it.
It was amazing how much deeper he could get, and as he thrust hard into her, she reached between her legs to stroke her clit so she could come with him. It wouldn’t be long for either of them, despite the orgasms they had already shared. With a small cry that was somewhere between a grunt and his name, her climax swept over her. Her sheath contracted around him, urging Sawyer to find his own release, and his erection twitched inside her as he came.
Afterward, they returned to the shower, this time with the intention of getting washed and dressed to meet his family waiting for them downstairs. As she looked in the mirror afterward, styling her freshly straightened hair before applying a light layer of makeup, she didn’t miss the bruised look of her lips, or the satisfied gleam in her eye. For the first time, she wondered if she would survive this week. The sex was so good, it might kill her. Her lips twitched, and
she decided that was an okay way to go.
Slowly, the grin faded as she realized just how addictive Sawyer was. She could easily come to crave the intense passion he inspired, and she had a new appreciation for the women who fell for him despite his clear lack of desiring anything more than sex.
Tightening her mouth, she swiped on some lip-gloss as she vowed to herself she wouldn’t be just another notch on his bedpost. She wouldn’t be stupid and fall for him. Knowing him as she did, it should be a cinch to separate her heart from her body when it came to interacting with Sawyer.
After breakfast, Caitlin and Kiersten spirited Sawyer away somewhere. Nadia had gently declined the invitation to accompany them, knowing he needed to spend time with his family alone. She could use a breather from him as well. She was feeling everything too intensely around him after they had become intimate. It was difficult to keep her hands off him, even in a casual fashion, such as brushing her hand against his when they sat down to eat. It would do her equanimity some good to have distance and time for reflection.
That’s what she told herself anyway, as she went to the gardens and began exploring in more depth than yesterday. She had been searching for him then, but today she just wanted to clear her mind, so focusing on the plants seemed like a good way to do so in lieu of chartering a boat to pursue calm reflection on the water.
She spent thirty minutes walking among the blooms, smelling and admiring those for which she had no name. As someone who had lived every moment possible on the sea, she had never taken time to grow plants. Her father hadn’t bothered either, and she didn’t recall her mother ever doing so.
Nadia had a few hazy memories of Carla, but none involved gardening. She remembered her mother teaching her how to swim, and she recalled her mother used to fuss at her to eat vegetables. Her most vivid memories were of the soothing nighttime ritual of bath time, followed by combing her curly hair before confining it into two matching pigtails.
She also recalled the first moment when she’d realized her mother wasn’t coming back, which had actually been several days after the other woman died from cancer. Her father had told her she was gone. Before her death, neither one had ever tried to hide from their little girl just how serious it was, though of course they had softened the news. Nadia had known her mother’s death was coming, but hadn’t fully understood at the time what that had meant.
It had been a stark moment, staring at her ratted hair in the mirror and realizing her mommy would never be there again to comb it for her, that had made it sink in. It was one of the few times reserved Nadia could remember truly crying, having hidden away in her closet to sob into her pillow so as not to disturb her father, who had seemed so distant then. As an adult, she realized he must have been immersed in grieving, but as a child, he had just seemed unapproachable.
That had been the only time she remembered not being able to go to her papa for something though. As Nadia sat on a stone bench to admire a pink and yellow blossom shooting upward nearby, she hoped she would be as good a parent someday when she had children. Not that she planned to do so anytime soon. After all, there were still qualifying events she would have to prepare for and enter to have a shot at being in the challenging team racing against the defenders for the next America’s Cup.
Abruptly, she found herself picturing what a baby with Sawyer would look like, with golden-brown curls, light-brown eyes, and skin a perfect blend of her darker brown and his paler cream. A pang of envy during shot through her, which was disconcerting. At thirty-two, she wasn’t hearing her biological clock tick by any means, and Sawyer Sinclair was the last person she would choose as father for any future child.
The quiet whir of Harold’s electric scooter heralded his arrival before he came into sight and forced her thoughts to veer in another direction. She was relieved to shed the morose thoughts of her parents, and idle speculation about future children, though tense about facing the older man.
She didn’t think it was an accident he’d come across her in the garden, and she had been expecting some kind of third-degree from him since arriving at his family’s home. He wasn’t as laidback as Kiersten and Caitlin. Harold hadn’t been unkind, and she didn’t expect him to try to bribe her to leave Sawyer or something equally horrible, but she knew he was tougher to fool than his daughter and granddaughter.
He stopped beside her, waving off his sexy blonde secretary whose heels tapped on the paver bricks as she followed a few feet behind. “Find something else to do for a while, Paige,” said Harold sternly.
Looking unruffled, the blonde simply nodded and turned on her heels—heels that seemed ridiculously high for secretarial work—and headed back toward the house.
He stared at her for a long moment, and she struggled to remain cool and composed. There was something piercing in his eyes that made it difficult not to shift like a guilty teenager. Finally, she decided to break the silence first. “I’ve been expecting this, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Harold,” he said gruffly, one of his bushy eyebrows arching high on his forehead. “And expecting what, Nadia?”
She smiled. “I’ve been expecting you to interrogate me.”
He chuckled, and the rich, warm sound had the effect of diffusing some of her tension. “It’s hardly an interrogation, my dear. I simply want to know more about you, and how you fit into my reprobate grandson’s life.”
She couldn’t resist the urge to fidget, his words making her question if he had figured them out. Had their pretense done nothing to fool the older man? She wet her full lips before replying. “What would you like to know, sir?”
He let the “sir” slide as his brows furrowed. So large and dynamic, they were practically a focal point all on their own, and strangely entrancing. She had to fight back a giggle at the thought of being unable to look away from his eyebrows. Perhaps he used them as a negotiating tool in the corporate setting, distracting enemies with the caterpillar-like extrusions of white hair while moving in for the kill.
“I’d just like to know more about you, Nadia. Where you came from? Your family history. The usual.”
She nodded, though she had never been through this sort of ritual before. There had been a couple of lovers whose families she had met, but the meetings had been casual and had never led to heart-to-heart conversations.
In her own way, she was as distant as Sawyer. He pursued anything in skirts, always with the intent of moving on to the next one. She had been far more choosy in her partners, but she had never intended to linger either. Her eyes was always on the ultimate price, and she hadn’t allowed romance to distract her from her goals. It was strange to realize she had something in common with Sawyer.
“I was raised by my father after my mother died when I was just a little girl. I was almost five when she passed away from cancer, and I remember bits and pieces of the time I had with her, but not as much I would have liked to retain.” At his encouraging nod, she continued, “My parents met in foster care when they were both in their late-teens and moved out of their foster parents’ into their own home after graduation. My dad went in the Navy and became a SEAL. They were poor before that, but they had a better life after he finished training.”
“Is the Navy why your father became a sailor?”
Nadia shrugged. “I assume so, but I think he also had a job as a younger boy doing something on the docks where they lived. I don’t know, since he never talked about that part of his life very much. He was a man very much focused on the future, not the past.”
The sole exception she had observed had been regarding her mother. Nadia supposed Gideon probably had dated women, at least casually, but there had never been another serious relationship for him of which she was aware after Carla had passed away. Perhaps he just became too focused on his own dream of winning the America’s Cup, or maybe he had simply loved her too much to contemplate moving on.
“How long was he a SEAL?”
“About eight years, and he was in the Navy for a good twelve
years. After my father retired, we settled near the ocean so he could restore the catamaran he had purchased and begin entering qualifying events.”
“And your father isn’t with you anymore, I believe you said?”
She nodded, feeling the familiar lump in her throat that appeared whenever she thought about Gideon. “His catamaran sank one day. I wasn’t with him, but two of his crew members were. They were taking it for a final sail before the next regatta in the Louis Vuitton Cup. As you probably know, you have to win the Louis Vuitton Cup to challenge for the America’s Cup.” Adding the factoid helped dissociate from the grief that surged inside her, restoring her equanimity slightly.
Sympathy warmed his eyes, and surprisingly, the older man reached out to take her hand. It was a kind, nonthreatening grasp, and he squeezed gently. “That must be difficult. I never knew my own father, because he died before I was born, but I was quite close to my mother. It was difficult when she passed away.” By the thickening of his tone, it was clear he also had a similar lump in his throat despite how many years it must have been since his mother had died.
A moment later, he blinked, and his voice sounded stronger. “Sawyer was always close to his father too, so you can imagine how distraught he was at finding him like that?”
Nadia nodded, wanting to press for more information that he clearly thought she possessed, but unable to do so. Just like yesterday at the spa, she was bound by the pretense of the relationship that prevented her from indulging her curiosity.
“It changed him, and I understand that. How could it not? Still, the answer isn’t to run away and live a life free of responsibility. He needs to take on more.”
Nadia licked her lips, wondering how to proceed. Personally, she agreed with Harold about Sawyer needing more responsibility. It didn’t seem natural for a man nearing thirty to have no strings and no ties, other than family he saw sporadically. Still, it wasn’t her place to judge, and she didn’t think it was his grandfather’s either. It was a difficult position to find herself in, and she didn’t have a clear response.