Love Emerged (Love Surfaced #3)
Page 17
“It’s painless to stop the cattiness of women now,” he says directly to me.
I smile although it eats me up that he lets his mother talk to his daughter like that.
A bell rings, and I watch Gretchen rush through the archway to the wasted entry room. A second later, a couple walks in, followed by a girl about my age.
“Beatrice,” the woman croaks, having her eyes set on her.
I release Bea’s leg, and she stands to greet the woman dressed like this the Royal family is making an appearance. Isn’t this a home dinner? If it were my home, I’d be in jeans and a T-shirt. But, damn, this woman has more jewelry on than what the cases at Bloomingdale’s hold.
“Hi, Aunt Cate.”
They exchange an awkward hug.
“You look beautiful.” She pulls back, extending her arms out to take a good look at Bea. “Your hair is too short, but otherwise, you’re holding up good.”
What the hell is up with this family?
“You look great, too.”
Bea is being way too damn polite, and I can’t stand that she lets these people treat her like she’s less than perfection.
“Hi, I’m Bea’s uncle. Len Vitron.” A healthier-looking Hugh steps up to me with his hand out.
“Dylan McCain,” I introduce myself.
He tilts his head, as though he might know me. I wait for it, but it never comes. Even as he steps aside, you can tell he’s flipping through his Rolodex of contacts in his mind.
“This is Lily, our daughter,” Len introduces the girl about my age.
She barely shakes my hand but gives a full-on smile.
“Hello,” I say.
Her eyes roam me up and down. “Are you related to Tanner McCain?” she asks.
Len snaps his fingers, pointing to me. “That’s it.”
I nod and smile, not completely wanting to dive into my personal life. These people are weird and odd. Next they’ll ask me to broach the subject with my brother about him endorsing their company.
“Yes, he’s my brother,” I admit.
She nods. “You have his dimples,” she says.
I’m creeped out that she’s noticed that similarity.
“Do you know him?” I ask.
She shuffles. “No. I met him once a long time ago.”
Her eyes move to Bea’s, and Bea inhales a hefty breath.
“Lily came up to see me at Michigan once. We went out with Brad and Tanner,” Bea clues me in.
I half-wonder if my brother slept with her.
“He left early with Piper though.”
Thank God. This girl seems like a stalker with the way her eyes are gleaming with lust and the talk of the dimples my brother and I share.
“Oh.” I let it hang in the air because I’m starting to feel uncomfortable with her eyes on me.
We make all the introductions, and soon, Gretchen summons us all into the dining room for dinner. Bea moves to help her dad, but he shoos her away, allowing Gretchen to handle it.
I hang back, hoping to have a word with Bea before I go ballistic on this group of assholes. She’s at the door where I assume the dining room is when she notices me a few paces back. Confusion crosses her face.
“Come on. The company sucks, but I’m sure the food is five star.” She laughs, but I don’t.
“Bea, these people are evil. Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Her amused eyes turn sad. “My dad is sick. I won’t have much time with him, so I’m just ignoring them. Well, I almost lost it for a second there. After he”—she pauses—“passes, I won’t be talking to these people anymore.”
“But—”
She places her finger to my lips, effectively closing them. “No. I’m not allowing my final times with my dad to be filled with arguing with them. Nothing will change their minds anyway. I’ve always been seen as the out-of-wedlock baby even though my parents were married at the time of conception. Please, Dylan, bite your tongue?”
“You’re asking me not to protect you?” My eyes dig into hers, so she realizes how gut-wrenching of a task that is.
“Please.” She leans up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek.
My shoulders slump, but I’ll let it go for as long as I can handle it.
“On the lips,” I murmur.
A crooked grin emerges on her face.
Her lips meet mine, and I place my hand on the back of her head, holding her to me. My tongue doesn’t do the leisurely wait because our time is limited. Instead, I impatiently enter her mouth, and the cutest whimper sighs out of her.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” her grandmother says, again finding us in a compromising position.
Neither of us addresses her immediately. Instead, we smile at each other.
“Like I said, Mrs. Vitron, she’s irresistible.”
The woman rolls her eyes and turns around on her heels to venture back into the dining room.
“Come on,” Bea urges, tugging me forward.
“You owe me for this.”
“I’ll pay you tonight.” She slightly cocks her head, giving me a seductive look with her eyes that only makes my dick come alive.
“Yes, you will.”
I smack her ass, and she jumps before relaxing in my hold.
I’m surprised I don’t have blood oozing from my palms from the amount of times my fingernails have dug into my skin every time one of these assholes said a backhanded comment to Bea. The only good thing that kept me from hauling off was Bea’s silent pleas with her hand on my thigh each time.
Bea’s dad seems okay, but I lost respect for him when he failed to stick up for her. To tell his jerk of a family to stop bullying my girlfriend.
Two excruciating hours later, the dinner is over, and I couldn’t be more thankful. The staff members finally come out to take our plates. This life seems nice and posh, but if I had to associate with these people all the time, I’d prefer my ramen noodles and mac and cheese.
We’re all ushered back to the living room for a nightcap, Hugh leading the way with Gretchen’s assistance. I glance over at Len and wonder why he won’t help his brother out. Man, I guess everyone is out for themselves in this family.
One drink later, and Len, Cate, and Lily all leave. Bea slipped off her heels earlier, and she has her legs tucked under her body, leaning into me. I’m guessing that we’re in for the long haul, and the grandmother seems content on the standoff, too.
Hugh’s yawned no more than ten times in the last five minutes. By the final time, Bea straightens out, slipping into her heels again.
“We should leave. I’ll come by tomorrow?” she asks her father.
He nods. “I’d like that, and you can bring Dylan, too.” He smiles my way.
Bea turns around. “We’ll see. I’ll call in the morning.” She leans down and kisses his cheek.
“It was nice meeting both of you.” I eye the grandmother and then shake Hugh’s hand.
“You as well. Take good care of my daughter.”
I look at Bea, and her eyes light up, like when I tell her that she’s beautiful.
“I intend to,” I say.
The grandmother comes over, half-hugging Bea with a cold good-bye. She doesn’t bother shaking my hand at all.
Five minutes later, we’re on the way back to the hotel. My curiosity piques. I don’t want to keep harping on these bullies that Bea calls family, but something just doesn’t add up. I mean, Bea doesn’t seem to even want their money, so I’m unsure as to why she’s been nailed as the outcast.
“I never asked, what did the doctor say today?” I ask her in the cab.
A cloud of sadness casts over her eyes. “He said that my dad’s starting to have heart failure now. That he’s past the transplant phase.” She turns her head to look out the window. “You know, it’s odd, the way you live your life damning the ones who have wronged you, but as soon as you know they won’t be around, you can’t for the life of you figure out why you damned them in the beginning.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching over for her hand.
She looks down at our entwined hands. “Thank you for keeping your cool tonight.”
“I’m not going to lie. It was hard. Harder than not coming inside you after two seconds last night.”
She laughs, and it’s the most glorious sound in the world after what we just endured. The cab driver glances back through the mirror, but I don’t give a shit because she’s laughing.
“Damn, Dylan.”
The taxi pulls up to the hotel, and the doorman opens the door to a still laughing Bea. We file out and into the lobby, right to the elevator.
“I’ve still got a half bottle of Jack in my room,” I comment.
She sighs. “I’m super tired. Maybe tomorrow?”
She looks sheepish, as though she’s nervous to refuse my invitation. The look makes me uneasy and discontent.
“No problem. I’ve got a great idea for the campaign, so I’ll jot it down, and then maybe we can talk about it tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds good.”
The elevator dings at her floor, and I press the door open button. I push her up against the elevator wall, hoping maybe she’ll change her mind. Our lips meld together in a comfortable dance that we’re starting to master. We’re slowly anticipating each other’s next move, and it’s only making the kiss that much hotter and more fierce.
I break apart, and her hand lands over her heart.
“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask.
She stumbles out of the elevator. “Yeah.”
Bea
“EXCUSE ME.” I WEDGE THROUGH the barrage of people filling the downstairs lobby of our office building.
It’s been three weeks since Dylan and I were in Chicago.
The elevator doors ping open, and my lucky stilettos click on the tiled floor. Today is pitch day. Nike decided to make the rounds to the offices instead of everyone coming to New York. Odd if you ask me, but Dylan mentioned it happened at AdSec on most occasions. I’m feeling confident on what Dylan and I came up with. Along with the help of the art team, we have something spectacular. Dylan is a damn genesis. I can see why he was the hotshot out of NYU.
“Hey, Samantha. I think you just got entered into the Guinness Book of World Records for being the longest receptionist to make it here,” I start babbling when Dylan appears next to me.
“Make sure no one touches these coffees, especially mine.” Dylan takes the tray from my hands and places it on the edge of her desk. He grabs my hand. “I need to show Bea something about the campaign.”
Samantha’s eyes look at our entwined hands, and my smile only grows wider. You’d have to be a moron not to know that Dylan’s about to sneak me off somewhere.
Disappointment rises in my gut when we pass the storage room—yesterday’s midday surprise. The break room is way too crowded this early. The conference room is like a goddamn fish bowl.
Brad walks out of his cubicle, and Dylan immediately releases my hand. I’m thinking this secret kiss isn’t going to happen.
“Hey, you two,” he says, his eyes slowly moving between both of us. “In a rush to go somewhere?” He raises one eyebrow.
I punch him in the stomach and continue to follow Dylan’s defined back. The suit jacket he’s wearing strains slightly around his broad shoulders, and my body hums, waiting for his lips to be on mine.
He opens up a new door.
“Oh, what’s behind door number three?” I ask.
“Your dream ride, baby,” he murmurs.
That hum turns into a current inside me.
He waits for me to enter first, and I’m shocked I never even knew this room existed. It’s like an image from an ’80s movie. Back in the storage room, my hand breezes by the rows of boxes.
“What are these?” I ask.
Dylan’s on my heels. “Old files.” His lips are already moving up my shoulder and toward the back of my neck.
“Who knew?” I’m still baffled by the amount of wasted space filled with boxes of paperwork.
“I did. They’re in the process of moving it all to digital, but in the meantime, I figured—”
“Our playroom?”
His tongue snakes out on the back of my neck, and I rise to my tiptoes. He’s pinpointed three of my more erogenous zones so far. I like to think that one was straightforward.
“Hmm . . . another one,” he murmurs.
I turn around in his arms, and he thrusts into me, backing me into one of the large metal shelving units.
“That leaves me, what? Three more?” He ventures around my body, his hands and mouth searching for my others.
“Don’t you think we should be preparing for Nike?” I ask.
His head shakes as it dips down the crease between my breasts. My head falls back into a box when his mouth covers my nipple through my dress.
“We should practice.” My effort at an excuse is small since my fingers wind through his hair.
He backs up, his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. “Okay. Let’s.”
He steps back, crossing his arms over his chest, and I notice the bulge in his pants that I’ve been feeling for the last few minutes.
I’m confused, but I move toward the door.
“Whoa. Where are you going? You said, practice.”
I point at the door. “Yes, in the conference room.”
He raises both eyebrows. “I’m not really into others seeing what’s mine.” He widens his stance, showing he’s staying put.
My hands fly up in the air. “What the hell are you talking about?”
A slow smirk emerges on his face. “Last night, you were naked.”
I roll my eyes, feeling like an idiot. I should have figured he had something up his sleeve.
“Um, that was because it was the only way you’d take this seriously.”
“Oh, make me take it seriously now. You leaving me right after was not cool, by the way.”
Those eyebrows shoot up, and I laugh.
“Brad came home, and I was naked in your room. I had to take the first chance to bolt out of Dodge. We know he’d only torment us if we actually confirmed our relationship.”
Our relationship.
Still sounds weird to me, but I have to admit, I’m enjoying this with Dylan. He’s so casual and no pressure. If I don’t want to come over, he’s doesn’t act offended. I have my alone time when I want it, but in addition, I get laid when I want. A win-win situation.
He nods to my comment. Brad is nosy, and he’d positively spread it to the masses. The last person I want to know about us is him, which causes a problem since he’s Dylan’s roommate. Hence, the reason most of our hook-ups are at my apartment. But, last night, Brad was moaning about some sort of Sam guy, so when he went to take a shower, I snuck out.
“Tonight, at your place.” He smiles, breaking the distance between us.
I take a long and deep breath, smelling his enticing masculine scent that makes my core tingle. His hands are veering down my waist, and he squeezes my ass, pulling me against him.
“I had to take care of myself last night, and I’m a firm believer that, if I have a girlfriend, my right hand doesn’t need calluses.”
“Well, am I supposed to be at your beck and call? Should I just stop wearing panties so you have fast access whenever your dick gets hard?” Not that I wouldn’t accommodate his request.
His eyes widen. “That’d be awesome. Let’s do that.” His lips twitch as he tries to appear serious.
I narrow my eyes. “We need to go.” My hand finds the doorknob behind my back.
“One kiss,” Dylan urges. His one hand moves up my cheek, and his eyes fixate on mine.
They are only ever fill
ed with warmth, and I wonder if this man has a mean bone in his body.
He descends, and his lips lightly brush along mine. A soft moan escapes me, and it must spur something in him because he presses me to the door, his hips locking me in place. His tongue parts my lips, and mingles with mine.
I’ve noticed one thing about Dylan McCain over the last two weeks. The longer we’re together, the more comfortable he is with showing how much he truly wants me. It might be my body that has him wound tight, but I’ve never been this aroused by one smoldering look from a guy. When Dylan looks at me, my body heats up instantly.
He slows the kiss much sooner than I would prefer, but I was the one who said we needed to head back to work.
Dylan says nothing when his hands leave my hips, but our eyes lock until I turn the doorknob and open the door. He follows me down the hall, and I’m thankful that most people’s eyes are on their computer screens as they start their day. Well, all except Mr. Slacker, Brad Ashby, who is leaning on his cubicle wall, with a smirk across his face while we pass by.
“Well, well, did you find that file?” He sticks his head out in front of me, nodding rapidly.
I punch him in the gut again, and Dylan starts cracking up behind me.
“You can blame yourself for that one,” Dylan says, not stopping to check on his roommate.
“I’m guessing Dylan’s a selfish lover. The women I’m with are in a state of euphoria after I’ve finished.”
“Watch it, Ashby,” Dylan hollers back.
All I can think about is what our coworkers are thinking right now. Then again, most wear headphones because they’re quiet individuals, and they love boring things like numbers and budgets.
“You’re all talk,” Brad says back.
But, this time, Dylan doesn’t engage him.
Once we pass the conference room, we’re back on our side of the building. I stop at Samantha’s desk to grab the coffees, but I see that they’re all gone, except for mine and Dylan’s.
“They came and took theirs.” She smiles, her fingers moving to answer the next phone call.
Great. Fuck. They’re going to wonder where we went.
I glance back to Dylan with a teasing smirk to say, You are to blame.
He laughs, sipping his coffee and rounding the corner to his cubicle. I walk straight, and just as I assumed, John swivels in his chair and brings one ankle up to his knee.