by Erika Wilde
Tempest was so busted. She couldn’t say the text was just Remy with a time to meet, because that wouldn’t warrant her besotted reaction. And since whatever this thing between them wasn’t public knowledge, she wasn’t ready to spill the beans.
She casually put her phone back on the table, facedown, and shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s no one.”
Elle laughed. “Liar,” she said lightheartedly. “You look absolutely smitten right now.”
“Come on, Tempest,” Arabella joined in. “You can tell us. Have you met someone?”
“Maybe,” she murmured, and took a long drink of her tea. That one vague word was all the information she’d offer, but both of the girls jumped right on her reply.
Elle looked completely vindicated and grinned. “You have to tell us who he is!” she demanded.
“Do we know him?” Arabella asked right on the heels of Elle, both of their curiosity at an all-time high.
Tempest absently pushed around the salad on her plate with her fork. She really wanted to share her relationship with Remy with the girls, not to mention having someone to talk to about the stirring of feelings he evoked that just kept getting stronger and stronger. But she also knew if she disclosed to Elle and Arabella who she was seeing, they’d tell Hunter and Maddux, respectively. And lord knew she didn’t want her brothers breathing down her neck or getting all protective over their baby sister—or causing issues for Remy.
So, she opted to keep everything to herself for now. “I’m not ready to say.”
Elle groaned, her disappointment evident. “That’s so not fair. You know we just want you to be as happy as we are, right?”
“Yes,” Tempest replied, and flashed them both a bright smile. “Though just for the record, I’m very happy.”
“With your work and businesses, yes, we know that,” Elle acknowledged. “We’re talking about having a man in your life.”
“Being in love,” Arabella added.
“Finding the one,” Elle chimed in, grinning like a woman in love herself. “Like Arabella and I have.”
God, she was being tag-teamed, for crying out loud. Tempest set her fork on her plate and leaned back in her chair. She’d learned enough about Remy, had seen so many amazing qualities in him she adored, that she wished he could be the one. But the truth of the matter was, despite how much they’d shared thus far and how open and easy their conversations now were, she always felt as though he was holding a big part of himself back. A part he didn’t want to talk about but that was imperative to how he viewed committed relationships.
His horrible divorce, yeah, she could easily understand how that could lead to Remy not trusting women enough to let another into his heart. His ex-wife had been a bitch and didn’t deserve a good, virtuous man like Remy, as far as Tempest was concerned. But during a lot of their late-night conversations this past week, there was one area of Remy’s life they’d never talked about. That when she brought it up, he quickly diverted the subject. And that topic was his family and his past before meeting his ex-wife.
“Why don’t you ask him to the spaghetti dinner that’s in a few weeks to help volunteer?” Elle suggested.
Tempest considered Elle’s idea, which wasn’t a bad one. It would mean spending more quality time with Remy . . . and a way to bring their relationship out in the open.
“Maybe I will,” she said, but made no definite promises.
Chapter 10
“Ahhh, I still can’t believe it’s all mine.”
Remy grinned as he watched Tempest spin around in the middle of the cavernous lower level of the place she’d just bought, her keys and a dozen different manufacturing catalogs clutched to her chest. He’d never seen an empty, almost gutted building make someone so unbelievably happy. The companies he normally contracted with were primarily run by men, who were practical and pragmatic and dispassionate when it came to discussing and scrutinizing the framework of a structure they were hiring Remy to design, renovate, or build from scratch.
But the unequivocal joy that showed on Tempest’s face as she’d given him a tour of each of the different floors—that were nothing more than wide-open, barren spaces that needed a shit ton of work—was infectious. He understood what this moment meant to her. That securing this building made her feel successful and accomplished in her own right. And he wanted to do everything in his power to bring her vision to life, and not just because the contract was substantial.
No, for him, the money was secondary. At the moment, it was all about the guileless hope and optimism radiating from Tempest. Being a part of the aspirations that drove her. As he witnessed her pure enthusiasm, she reminded him of all the things he’d forgotten how to believe in. The pursuit of happiness. The joy of creating something beautiful and awe-inspiring out of virtually nothing. And, most importantly, himself.
It was a shocking and unexpected epiphany.
The past three years since Remy’s divorce, he’d kept his head down and just worked, worked, worked. Taking on one project after another. Dawn until dusk, he’d pushed his limits, until he’d exhausted himself so mentally and physically that he’d just fallen into bed every night . . . only to wake up the next morning and do it all over again. Day after day. Work hadn’t been about enjoying projects and taking pride and pleasure in what he’d created as much as it had been his way of sticking a Band-Aid on the pain and anger Rachel had inflicted. A way of forgetting how blindsided he’d been by her betrayal and rebuilding what she’d destroyed.
Tempest made him remember what it was like to be young, wide-eyed, and driven for all the right reasons. How he’d used to love grasping onto unique and creative concepts and implementing them, and all the ways he’d seen beyond a dull, lifeless structure and had turned it into a lustrous, unforgettable treasure he’d been honored to be a part of.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, he was genuinely excited about diving into a project and making Tempest’s dream a reality.
“So, what do you think about these light fixtures for over the bar area?” she asked, walking over to Remy and showing him a picture from one of the many catalogs of furniture, hardware, and fixtures she’d brought in with her. “Or maybe these instead?”
He looked at the glossy pictures she pointed to. Décor and aesthetics weren’t part of the package Lowell Construction offered, and normally his clients just told him what they wanted, no opinions necessary, and he built them into the design. But everything Tempest wanted to do to this building interested him, and while any final decisions would be up to her, he wanted to make sure he gave her as much guidance as he could, as well as an honest point of view.
“You definitely want to go with recessed lighting right behind the bar area where the glass shelves will be,” he suggested, then tapped on the photo of the pendant light fixtures in the catalog. “But I think this sleek, contemporary design would be more eye-catching dropping down from the ceiling where customers will be sitting at the bar.”
She bit her lip so seriously as she considered his advice, which he found incredibly endearing, then she nodded. “I think you’re right.”
They spent another hour discussing options, ideas, and placement of various furniture and fixtures. Her eyes sparkled vibrantly, her expressions animated as they nailed down specifics.
“I’ll start pulling permits and submit my plans to the city for approval,” he said once he saw Tempest winding down and they were about ready to leave.
She smiled up at him. “That sounds great.”
He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his work jeans, still dusty and dirty from a day on the job, and felt for the velvet pouch he’d put into one of them earlier. It was a small gift for Tempest, to commemorate this special day for her. A spur-of-the-moment purchase after seeing one of those random ads pop up on his social media page.
It wasn’t like it was an engagement ring, but he was suddenly, ridiculously nervous as he withdrew the pouch and stretched his hand toward her. He couldn
’t remember the last time he’d given a woman a gift just because he’d wanted to. “I . . . uh . . . have something for you.”
Her eyes widened in surprise as she set her stack of catalogs on the concrete floor and tentatively accepted the small velvet bag. “What is this?”
“Just a small gift,” he said with a forced casual shrug, wondering if she’d find his present silly. He was suddenly second-guessing himself and his random purchase, though it hadn’t been cheap. “To remember this day and all the great things you’re going to accomplish with Wilder Things.”
Her expression softened. “How incredibly thoughtful.”
He watched her pull open the strings on the pouch, then tip the bag until the memento dropped into her palm. Her breath caught as the overhead light glinted off a round silver disc key chain and the W in a feminine script that was encrusted in red Swarovski crystals.
“It’s beautiful,” she said in awe.
He watched as she immediately transferred the building key over to her new key chain, then she glanced up at him, and the smile she gave Remy made his heart skip a weird beat before resuming at a rapid pace.
“Thank you.” She closed her fingers over the gift as if she’d never let it go, then moved in closer and rose up on her toes to brush her lips over his. “This means more to me than you’ll ever know.”
He groaned. Her kiss was soft, sweet, and filled with gratitude, but it sparked a raw, needy desire for her he instinctively acted upon. Sliding an arm around her waist, he brought her body flush with his and slanted his mouth over hers in a deeper, tongue-tangling kiss. Still slow. Still soft. And filled with so much longing his entire being ached for her.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered against his lips once he finally ended the kiss, and his mind answered, I’ve missed you, too. Because it was the inescapable truth. This woman was already leaving an indelible mark on him.
She pulled back so she could look up into his eyes, her expression one of irresistible seduction. “Now how about you take me back to your place so we can celebrate this occasion properly?”
He grinned, his body totally on board with her idea. “Let’s go.”
Since they’d taken separate cars, Tempest followed Remy back to his place in her own vehicle, where they parked side by side behind his office building in a residential area. From the outside, a flight of steps led up to his apartment, and within a few minutes, he had the door unlocked and escorted her inside.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, then indicated his dusty work clothes. “Give me a few minutes to take a quick shower, and then we’ll let the celebrating commence.” He winked at her.
He disappeared into the only adjoining room, which she assumed was the bedroom and bath, leaving her in the sparsely decorated kitchen/living room area. The place was small but tidy, with one long leather couch, a coffee table, and a TV mounted on the wall. He was, for sure, a minimalist.
She glanced around, trying to find more personal items to give her a better insight to this man she was falling for, but there were no knickknacks, pictures, or anything else that might give away a few of his secrets.
Hearing the shower turn on, she strolled into the small bedroom, also surprisingly clean for a bachelor. Even the bed was made. But again, no personal touches anywhere.
Wanting to surprise him when he walked out of the bathroom, Tempest slipped out of her heels, then took off her skirt and blouse, folding both and placing them on top of a short, functional dresser. In hopes of sexy times happening this evening with Remy, she’d worn a bra and panty set from her seductive collection—a provocative balconette bra that pushed her breasts up, gave her amazing cleavage, and covered just above the nipple. Except the racy red lace cups were sheer, which would give Remy a teasing glimpse of what was beneath. Same with the skimpy thong, which had been made more for seduction than practicality.
The water shut off, and a few short minutes later, Remy walked out of the bathroom, wearing a towel wrapped low around his hips and nothing else. As she saw him naked for the first time, his gorgeous, sculpted body took her breath away, and she took in his wide shoulders, a strong chest, and the taut muscles along his abdomen that disappeared beneath the towel. His hair was damp and had been finger combed away from his face, and he stopped in his tracks when he saw her standing by the bed in her sexy red ensemble.
His eyes heated, and a low, tortured groan rose up from his chest. “I feel like my birthday came early,” he murmured, eating her up with his hungry gaze.
A rush of desire swirled low in her belly. “When is your birthday?” A part of her expected him to skirt the personal question, but he told her the date, which was surprisingly soon.
“Not that I celebrate,” he said huskily as he closed the distance between them and caressed a finger along the low-cut design of the bra she wore, making her nipples pucker hard and tight with the need to feel his mouth on them. “But if I did, this is what I’d want my present to be.”
“Request noted,” she said playfully as she tugged on the towel to loosen the knot at his hip, wanting to see every inch of the jutting erection hidden beneath.
The terry material came undone and fell to the floor at his feet, and she wasted no time taking that hard, heated length of flesh in her hand and stroking from base to tip. His entire body shuddered, and a drop of pre-come beaded on the tip.
“Jesus Christ, that feels good,” he muttered, his jaw clenching as she squeezed her fingers tight around him. “Nice to have someone’s hand on my dick other than my own.”
She laughed, and rising up on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips across his. “Hmm, I think you’ve had enough hand jobs the past three years,” she teased, meeting his gaze. “I really, really want to taste you and feel your cock in my mouth as I suck you off.”
He gave her an adorably lopsided grin. “I’m not going to say no to that.”
Splaying her hands on his chest, she guided him toward the bed until he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, and she knelt on the floor between his spread legs, taking him in her hand again. Wanting to make this so good for him, she licked her lips, and with her eyes cast up to his—watching him watch her—she leaned in and swirled her tongue over the head before sliding her lips all the way down his smooth, hard erection, enveloping him in wet, suctioning heat.
His entire body shook and he swore beneath his breath as she slowly came back up, her mouth tight around his cock and her tongue tracing the pulsing vein running along the underside of his shaft in a deliberate tease. A low, primitive growl rumbled up from his chest, and he buried his fingers into her hair, his hand gripping her scalp as he took control.
She let him, feeling all the need and lust building in Remy as he fucked her mouth, so turned on by how aroused he was. His hips thrust up as he pushed her head down until the tip bumped against the back of her throat and she could barely breathe, though she didn’t struggle.
“God, yes,” he uttered as she swallowed around him, heightening every sensation. “I’m going to come so fucking hard,” he warned her, loosening his hold on her to give her the option to stop.
She kept sucking him, as hard and deep as she could take him, wanting nothing more to give him that pleasure. To revel in it. She felt his body stiffen, and his head fell back as a long, low groan vibrated through him, the same time hot, salty streams of semen spurted down her throat and she did her best to take it all. He held her head against his lap as he rode the wave of his release, and when the last shudder of ecstasy rippled through him, he withdrew his cock from between her lips.
She sat back on her heels, giving him a moment to recover, but he surprised her by reaching down to lift her to a standing position in front of him. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her midsection tight to his chest and buried his face in her cleavage. She clutched his shoulders, shivering as his warm, damp breath feathered across the tops of her breasts.
“Your turn,” he murmured lazily, his tongue dipping into the va
lley between her breasts before he nipped at one of her taut, aching nipples through the sheer lace. “An orgasm for an orgasm.”
She was already so damn close, she wasn’t going to refuse his offer. One of his hands slid into the front of her thong, his fingers gliding through slick, sensitive flesh. He strummed across her taut clit, and her legs shook.
He looked up at her, his eyes hot on hers as two fingers pressed deep inside her. “You are so fucking wet from sucking my dick. Completely soaked.”
She bit her bottom lip and gyrated against his hand.
“Pull your panties all the way down for me,” he ordered, the hand at her back stroking along her spine while the other moved slowly, leisurely inside her.
Already starting to pant from the need gathering where his fingers teased her flesh, she put her thumbs into the thin waistband of her thong and pushed the scrap of fabric down, letting it drop to her feet.
“Good girl,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over her clit, just enough to make everything inside her clamor for more pressure, more friction. “Now take off your bra so I can see your gorgeous tits for the first time and suck on your nipples.”
Reaching behind her, she unhooked the clasps, then pushed the bra straps down her arms, freeing her breasts to Remy’s appreciative, lust-fueled gaze for the first time. He groaned at the sight, and without waiting, she threaded her fingers into his still-damp hair and brought his mouth to one throbbing nipple. He immediately latched on, and her head fell back on a moan as he sucked and licked and tortured that hard nub with his teeth before giving the other the same attention and sending a jolt of breath-stealing pleasure straight between her legs where he was stroking her so expertly.
That quickly, that easily, Tempest unraveled and fell apart for this man who already seemed to know her body and exactly what it craved. An overwhelming orgasm burst free, and everything inside her pulsed hard and deep as she cried out, bucking her hips against the hand and fingers taking her to the highest level of ecstasy.