Take Me To The Beach

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  When I draw in closer, he reaches for the front of my dress, tugging the fabric down to reveal I’m not wearing a bra, and he plays with my hard nipples with his fingers. I can tell he liked discovering me bare.

  He’ll soon find out I’m not wearing any panties either. I ditched my underwear just like he did. I bet he’ll love that even more.

  “We should stop,” he tells me agonizing minutes later. He pulls away from my grasp, from my mouth and I lean back on my heels, watching in disbelief as he grabs hold of himself, the swollen head looking almost painful to the touch.

  I frown. “Why?”

  “Don’t want to come like that.” He shakes his head, his breathing heavy, his eyes cloudy with lust. He kicks off his shoes and his jeans, sheds his sweater until he’s standing in front of me completely naked, and oh my God, he’s quite a sight to see. “I want to come inside you.”

  He’s not going to hear me protest.

  The moment I stand Alex is there, grabbing hold of me and swinging me over his shoulder, making me laugh. He reaches beneath my skirt to give my butt a slap but his palm lingers, rubbing over my skin and making me squirm.

  “You’re not wearing panties.”

  “Nope.”

  “You’re a bad girl,” he teases as he dumps me on the bad, dropping me so I land with a bounce on the mattress. “Take your dress off.”

  Ooh, I love it when he’s so demanding. It’s all sorts of hot.

  My gaze never leaving his, I pull the dress up, over my head, until I’m sitting in the middle of the bed on my knees, completely naked. His eyes flare with heat but he doesn’t come and join me.

  What’s he waiting for?

  “What are you waiting for?” I ask, deciding I’m not going to hold back. His appreciative gaze tells me he likes what he sees. I know he was so damn close to coming only a few moments ago. So what gives?

  “I like looking at you,” he says as he drinks me in. “You’re beautiful.”

  The wine and the earlier orgasm must’ve made me extra bold. “I’m also naked, so if you could join me on the bed, I’d appreciate it.”

  Laughing, he glances down at himself. “I’m also naked.”

  “I see that.” I lift a brow. “We really should quit wasting time. This is our last night in Paris.”

  “You’re right.” He goes to the mini bar and opens the glass door, pulling out a small box of condoms. Glad he’s the one thinking rationally right now, though I’m also on the pill, so we’ve got double protection.

  He drops the box onto the bedside table and says, “Lay down, Caroline.”

  I do as he asks, excitement rippling through me at the commanding tone of his voice, the intense way he’s watching me. And the next thing I know, he’s on top of me, his big body covering mine, our mouths locked and our tongues twisting. My breath catches when he strokes my stomach, and a moan escapes me when he touches me between my legs for the very first time.

  “You’re wet,” he murmurs and I spread my legs farther, giving him better access. He removes his hand and moves down the length of me, his mouth leaving a molten path. He licks and sucks my nipples, drags his tongue across my stomach, pushes my thighs apart and dips his head between them.

  “Alex.” My voice is shaky, but I can barely keep it together when his tongue touches my clit. He licks and strokes with his finger and tongue, driving me wild with desire for him, and when he slides first one, then another finger inside of me, sucking my clit between his lips?

  I go off like a freaking firecracker.

  That’s two, I think groggily a few seconds later, when he pulls away from me. My body is limp. I feel like I’m floating on a soft, puffy cloud as he leans over and grabs the box of condoms from the table. He tears into the small box, pulling out one and opening the wrapper so he can sheathe himself. I watch in fascination as he rolls the condom on, my body tingling in response.

  I bet he can make me come again.

  He positions himself so he’s hovering above me, his fingers gripping the base of his erection as he drags the tip of it through my folds. I arch against him, crying out when he does it again, when what I really want is him inside me.

  “You’re teasing me,” I accuse, glaring at him, but he just smiles.

  “You don’t like it?” He pushes inside, just a little, and I arch up again, trying to send him deeper.

  “I love it,” I whisper, watching as we join our bodies together. “But I want you deeper.”

  “Whatever you want.” Alex slowly slides all the way inside her, until he’s settled in deep. He closes his eyes, ducking his head to press his forehead against mine as he breathes heavily, his arms tightening around me to hold me close.

  “You feel so good,” I tell him, running my fingers through the damp with sweat hair at his nape.

  “You do too,” he murmurs. He stays still, as if he’s trying to prolong the pleasure, and I start to get anxious, squirming beneath him, desperate to feel all that delicious friction as he moves inside my body. “God, Caroline…”

  He starts to move, pulling almost all the way out before he plunges back in. Slowly. Again. And again, driving the both of them wild. His pace starts to increase and I hook my legs around his hips, anchoring myself to him, sending him even deeper. So deep, we groan in unison at the delicious sensation.

  I whisper his name and his moves become uncontrolled. Faster. Pumping inside of me with a steady rhythm, that familiar tingling making its return, lingering just on the surface. Deciding to help myself along, I touch the spot where I’m tingling the most, my fingers brushing the base of his erection and his eyes flash open as he tilts his head to watch.

  “God damn, that’s hot,” he says, his gaze lifting to meet mine. “I’m close.”

  “So am I,” I tell him, my fingers speeding up as Alex starts to speed up.

  Until we’re both coming, heading straight into delicious oblivion.

  Chapter 35

  Alex

  I’m in the office before seven a.m. Monday morning like normal, proud of myself that the jet lag isn’t hitting me too hard. For some reason it’s always easier to come back than it is to go over there. Plus, I spent all of Sunday in bed, so that helped.

  Sunday night I spent in bed with Caroline, who came over for dinner, which turned into a two hour sex romp and we ordered takeout pizza after. She loved my house, going on and on about the view, and when I took her out on the deck to watch the sunset, I lifted up her skirt and fucked her right there.

  It’s like we can’t keep our hands off each other. I’m sitting here right now, thinking about her, when I should be focusing on work. I haven’t been at the office in almost a week and I’m behind. There are meetings, reports to review, I need to talk to my father about the Paris trip, yet I’m zoning out, wondering when I can see Caroline again.

  That we’re back home and still wanting to see each other, still acting like a couple, that we want to actually be a couple, is huge.

  My what happens in Paris, stays in Paris motto got thrown out the window, and I’m fine with it.

  We spent our last day in Paris touring around just like I promised. We went to the Eiffel Tower. We walked the Champs Elysees and ate lunch at a Five Guys burger place. We got on one of those hop on/hop off buses and rode all over the city. We did our damnedest to see as much of the city as possible in those last hours we were there, and by the time we were back at the airport and boarding the plane, we were exhausted.

  We took a nap. We had sex. Heather was our flight attendant once again, and she served us a delicious late dinner. We watched a movie. Had sex again.

  I can’t get enough of her. Pretty sure she feels the same way.

  I’m whistling as I check my inbox, prioritizing what I can, forwarding emails to my assistant so Kelsey can take care of it. This is my favorite time of the day at the office, before everyone else is here, when it’s nice and quiet and I can concentrate without interruptions. Once eight o’clock hits, the phone starts
ringing and Kelsey starts asking questions and there are constant knocks at my door. It’s hard to get shit done.

  That’s why I stay late at the office too.

  It’s almost eight when I can sense someone walking toward my office. I glance up from my laptop to see my father striding toward the open door, his iPad clutched in one hand.

  And he looks furious.

  “Alex.” He stops at my desk, glancing down to tap at his iPad to bring a page up. “What is the meaning of this?”

  I take the iPad from him to see a British gossip website with a fuzzy shot of Manon and Caroline front and center and a headline.

  REVEALED: Hotel Magnate Alex Wilder’s New Fiancée Caroline Abbott Is A Total Sham!

  * * *

  My stomach twists as I read the short article.

  * * *

  Fashion icon Manon Descheaux and her family met with the hotelier Alexander Wilder recently in Paris. Seems that the Wilder Corporation is looking to expand their company into Europe and are purchasing the last Descheaux Hotel family owned building. His supposed fiancée Caroline Abbott accompanied him to France.

  “I thought the relationship between Alex and his fiancée seemed…off,” Manon said. “They weren’t very loving toward each other. I decided to do a little investigating.”

  Manon goes on to say she spent one on one time with Caroline, shopping with her and having lunch. “I asked her about Alex multiple times, but she always changed the subject. I never got the sense they were a happy couple.”

  After some investigating on Manon’s part, she discovered Wilder had broken his engagement with another woman, Tiffany Ratcliffe from West Hollywood, only a few weeks ago.

  “I knew something was suspicious,” Manon said with her trademark cheeky smile. “Feels like Alex was trying to pull one over on us!”

  No word on the deal with Descheaux and Wilder Corporation yet. Or if the supposed engagement between Alex and Caroline is still on. Stay tuned!

  * * *

  I finish reading and find my father still standing there, his arms crossed, his expression stern. “She’s trying to ruin our deal,” I tell him, setting the iPad down.

  “Why would she care? That deal we just signed is only going to make her family richer.” He grabs the iPad from my desk and tucks it under his arm. “Did you make Manon angry? Or Louis? I thought you had all of this covered.”

  “There are photos of Tiffany and I on the Internet,” I remind him, rubbing my forehead. A headache is coming on, and I never get them. “I’m guessing Manon decided to Google me and stumbled upon information about me and Tiffany.”

  “This is awful.” My father collapses in his chair, exhaustion and worry written all over his face. “I’ve tried to reach Alain, but he’s not returning my calls.”

  “Let me try.” I grab my cell, find Alain’s number and then use my desk phone to make the call. If it’s eight o’clock here, it’s five Paris time. He should be still in the office.

  But his phone rings and rings, until voicemail picks up. I leave a message and slam the phone into the receiver when I’m finished, frustration making me want to punch something. “Guess he’s avoiding us.”

  “You need to fix this.” Father points at me. “If this deal is ruined because of this article, the blame falls solely on you.”

  I gape at him, shocked he’d say such a thing. “You told me to go over there and make that deal happen, and I went over there. I made that deal happen. You told me to suck up to the Descheaux family, well I fucking sucked up to them. You said you wanted me to bring a fake fiancée to Paris, and I delivered. It’s not my goddamn fault Manon Descheaux is a nosy, unhappy bitch, hell bent on ruining other people’s lives. I can’t control her, despite the fact that I allow you to control me.”

  “I don’t control you,” he says indignantly.

  I can’t help it, I start to laugh. “Are you fucking serious right now? You’ve controlled us all our entire lives. Telling us where to go and what to do. Manipulating us to believe it’s what we want, when it’s really what you want. Meredith married Kevin to get away from you. That’s why they got married so young. Did you know that?” From the surprised expression on his face, I’m going to guess no. “Yeah, it’s true. She tired her damnedest to get out from under your thumb, even though she still works for Wilder. But she defies you and argues with you on a constant basis so…yeah. I envy her bravery.”

  Does that make me a coward, since I always went along with my father’s wishes? He’d been badgering me to get married, told me time and again I needed to settle down and think about having a family. He’d been hinting at it for the past year, maybe two. His needling is half the reason I got engaged to Tiffany so quickly.

  And that is a really shitty reason to get engaged. I can see that now.

  “You really believe I control you? All of you?” He rises to his feet, still grasping hold of his iPad. “I just want what’s best for my family, for our company. I’ve never wanted to live your life.”

  “No, you just want to manage it.” I exhale loudly, suddenly so exhausted, I feel like I could sleep for days. “Now if you could leave me alone? I have work to catch up on.”

  He stands in the doorway of my office, sputtering for a few seconds before he finally turns on his heel and walks away.

  Chapter 36

  Caroline

  I am having the best day ever. Seriously, I didn’t go to work, which is a total bonus. Oh, I tried to, but when I called Iris, she told me since she gave me today and tomorrow off, I shouldn’t bother coming in.

  “Enjoy your time back,” she reassured me on the phone. “Catch up on some sleep. But be prepared to share all the details of your trip when you get here Wednesday.”

  “I’ll tell you all about it,” I promised her with a laugh.

  Well. I won’t tell her everything. Not yet.

  I still want to keep my relationship with Alex kept secret. It doesn’t look right, us going out so soon after his relationship ended with Tiffany. Carmel and the surrounding area is small. Lots of people mix in the same social circles. News of their broken engagement has already made the gossip circuit. We don’t need to add to it by revealing that we’re together now.

  We’ll keep it on the down low for another month or so. Maybe two.

  It’s Monday late afternoon and Stella convinced me we needed to go to her brothers’ restaurant and meet the rest of the girls for drinks during happy hour. She’s already over there, since I fell asleep and ended up taking an almost three hour nap. Happy hour is actually two hours, so that works to my advantage this afternoon considering how my hours I slept. I’m hurriedly getting ready, hoping like crazy Alex will text me and I’ll be able to leave Tuscany’s and go straight to his house for the night.

  I spritz on an extra dose of perfume and then leave our apartment, headed down the street toward Tuscany. The weather is perfect. Warm with a slight breeze off the ocean, the sun is shining, birds are singing and flowers are blooming. The sidewalks are filled with tourists, but not too many. I haven’t heard from Alex all day, but I didn’t expect to. I knew he’d be busy at work since he was gone for much of last week. Plus, I don’t want to be one of those demanding girlfriends who expects a text every hour on the hour. That’s just ridiculous.

  Crossing the street, I see the restaurant in the near distance, and there are people standing outside of it. The weekday happy hour is always a hit with the locals, so I’m sure it’s busy inside. I can’t wait to see my friends. Show off my bag. I wore the Chanel earrings too, but not the rest of the jewelry. And I definitely didn’t wear the engagement ring, because hey, we’re not really engaged. No need to pretend anymore.

  I’m about to enter Tuscany when I hear a woman call my name. Turning, I expect to see one of my friends running toward me with a big smile, but instead, I find Tiffany standing there.

  Making her way toward me.

  I go completely still, hating how the fight part of fight or flight just ki
cked in. I don’t want to argue with her.

  But I don’t want to look like a wimp who runs away from her either. Been there, done that, finally ready to conquer my battles.

  Tiffany stops directly in front of me, dressed to kill in a clingy black dress that—damn it—looks great on her. “Looks like you finally got caught, hmm?” She smirks.

  I have no idea what she’s talking about. God, I hate her. “Leave me alone,” I say firmly, giving up on the fight as I turn to enter the restaurant. But she grabs my arm, stopping me. I shake myself out of her grip, ready to reach for my phone and call 911. Bitch needs to keep her hands to herself.

  Tiffany’s gaze falls to my bag I’m reaching into it, her smirk fading in an instant. “Did he buy you that? Pay you off for being his fake fiancée while you two were in Paris?”

  My body goes cold with shock. It’s like I’m frozen in place when all I want to do is leave. “What did you just say?”

  The smirk is back, even smirkier this time. Is that even a word? “You heard what I said. I asked if your new Chanel bag was payment for you pretending to be his fake fiancée while on your stupid trip.”

  I slowly shake my head, panic threatening to choke me. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear what she just said.

  Fake fiancée? That’s exactly what we were doing. How did she know?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Haven’t been on the internet much today, huh? Well, that’s too bad. I figured you’d have already seen the articles with Manon by now.” She turns to the man standing beside her—I didn’t even notice him until this very moment—and makes a huffy noise. “I don’t want to eat here. Not if she’s going inside. Let’s go somewhere else, Eddie.”

  They walk away, Tiffany never once looking back. I remain completely still, watching until they fade into the distance, and I finally reach for my phone, open up my browser and tap in the words, Alexander Wilder, Manon Descheaux.

 

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