Текст книги "The Singles"

Автор книги: Emily Snow

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 45 страниц)

Chapter 14

Setting me on my feet, Oliver’s palms flared over my flat stomach. I shivered—a combination of his touch and the cold metal of the refrigerator against my calves—and he skimmed his teeth over his bottom lip. Stopping at the waist of my skirt, he tugged my white pintuck top free.

“I don’t do jealous.” With each word, he undid a button, exposing another inch or two of my skin. “But when I opened that link and saw that picture of you, I wanted to take the first goddamn flight out of New York.”

“Why didn’t you just call and ask me?”

He freed the last button and stroked his thumb over the hollow of my throat, his breath catching when he traced between the valley of my breasts. Fingering the pretty white bow between the cups of my Agent Provocateur bra, he shook his head. “Because I needed to see your face when I asked you. I wanted to make sure.”

“That I wanted you?”

“That you weren’t lying to me.”

Suddenly ashamed, my chest caved in beneath his touch. Fuck. Why—why—did he have to say it like that? Here I was, the walking, talking epitome of a lie, letting him believe I was someone else. That I was nothing but a chance encounter. Choking on the guilt that bubbled in my throat, I laughed.

“I’m sorry about that picture.”

“Don’t.” He lowered his mouth to mine, and I closed my eyes as his warm breath fanned over my tender skin. “Don’t even mention it. Not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to fuck you in every way imaginable. We won’t need words.” Cupping my chin, he pinched my lips, his stare meaningful as I released a muted moan. “That’s what I want to hear.”

Shoving all thoughts of lies and deceit from my head, I reached for his zipper, but he let go of my mouth and grabbed my wrist. My brows arched together over my brown eyes. “Changed your mind?”

He pinned my arms over my head, causing me to knock a few magnets off the refrigerator. His expression was pained, and I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me, unable to breathe except for with the shallowest of breaths. From the way he was looking at me, I felt like at any moment he’d leave me a mess like last week. “I didn’t fly all this way just to leave alone with a hard cock.” Sighing, he looked at me through hooded lids. “As much as I’d like to bend you over where we stand, I promised you dinner.”

“Funny.” I arched my back, the soft cotton of his tee shirt tickling my bare stomach and chest. “I swear I remember you saying you were having me for dinner.”

Nipping my lower lip, he loosened his grip on my wrists and growled his agreement. “There’s nothing that’ll keep my tongue from being inside you tonight.” Letting his words ripple though me until my pussy clenched with desire, I crossed my arms over my chest, pushing each side of my blouse together. I started to speak, but he shook his head. “Go get dressed.”

I watched him carefully, feeling an ache consume my body as he backed away from me and rested against the counter across from the refrigerator. “Where are we going?”

When he rubbed his hand through his light brown hair, all I could picture was seeing those tousled locks between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together. “If you get dressed, then you’d see.”

“What should I wear?” Or not wear.

He spread his muscular arms, gesturing to his own attire of jeans and a tee shirt. “Anything.”

Realizing I could probe for details until I was blue in the face, I started out the kitchen, struggling to breathe when I felt the front of his body brush against mine after I grabbed my purse from the dining room. “Give me half an hour, I’m just going to shower and—”

“You’re just going to get wet when we get there, so there’s no point,” he drawled, and I froze in the entrance to the hallway that led to my bedroom. He squeezed my ass, and I looked up to meet apologetic blue eyes. “It really was a nice skirt,” he lamented, dragging the material up until he was touching the part he had ripped. “I’ll replace it.”

Sagging forward against the wall, I studied his movements carefully while he walked away from me. “It was only a skirt,” I whispered, but he shook his head and eased onto my couch.

His focus never wavered from my face. “There’s no such thing as only when it comes to you, Lizzie.”

My legs trembling, those words teased me as I hurried to my bedroom. I tossed my purse on my bed and raked my hands through my hair. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I studied my flushed, heart-shaped face and the brown, amber-flecked eyes that glistened with unsuppressed lust. Realizing that when I left with Oliver, that desire would finally be sated, I wrapped my arms around myself.

My phone vibrated inside my Prada bag, and I dragged my focus away from the mirror. Walking into my closet, I looked at the new text from Pen.

Should I come home? Or should I, you know, go somewhere else?

Rifling through my clothes, I replied as quickly as I could with my left hand.

You’re safe. He’s taking me to dinner, so I won’t be here when you get back. Pen ... I meant what I said about talking.

While I awaited her response, I set my phone on a shelf and plucked a black, lace-trimmed shift dress from the rack. Holding it up to my body, I decided it was perfect—not formal, not too casual, and I wouldn’t freeze to death in the chilly November night. As I took the dress, the lace-up Alice + Olivia booties Pen had given me for my birthday, and my phone back into my bedroom, I received a new message.

You’re right. We do need to talk. But you NEED tonight.

Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I threw the phone to the center of my bed. For a split second, my attention settled on the locked nightstand a few feet away. It was full of every ounce of information I’d gathered since I received that phone call more than five months ago, and I felt a pang of guilt as I looked at my bedroom door. Right outside of it was a man who was attracted to a façade.

A man I couldn’t resist wanting.

Tonight, I would have him. I would savor this single night he’d been promising me for weeks, and then—then I’d think about the contents of that bottom drawer.

Pressing my lips together, I kept my eyes straight ahead as I rushed into my bathroom to brush my teeth.

*

“I don’t know why, but I expected it to be ... bigger,” I told Oliver half an hour later. Swallowing back my anticipation, I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. “I guess that’s bitchy of me to say, huh?”

A sexy grin spreading across his face, he took my hands in his and pulled me out the Viper. “What were you expecting?”

Teasingly, I worked my lip between my teeth and stared up at the single-story Spanish hacienda-style home. When he’d sped the Viper onto the highway toward Malibu, I figured he was taking me to a seaside restaurant, but then to my surprise, he’d driven into a gated community close to Surfrider Beach. “A place like your mother’s, maybe?”

He winced. Spreading his fingers along the curve of my hip, he urged me toward the house, but then he paused in front of the mesquite wood door, stopping me between the two stone pillars. “No talking about Margaret.”

“I—” I began, but he held up a large hand.

“If you talk about her, you’ll leave with a red ass.”

“Mar-ga-ret.”

Pulling on the doorknob, his blue eyes flashed a warning. “I don’t forget anything, Lizzie,” he promised. He opened the door and gestured me inside, and I shivered when I stepped on the terra-cotta tile in the hallway and the cool blast from the air conditioner kissed my skin. “We’re going out back,” he said, leading me through the house, his hand resuming its place on my body.

His decorator had outfitted the place in rich, bold colors—deep oranges, browns, and reds, and rustic, handcrafted furniture that gave it a manly, comfortable vibe. The entire backside of the home featured floor-to-ceiling windows, and I pressed my palm to one and stared out at the grotto-shaped pool. “If I lived here, I’d never leave.”

“I bought it for the privacy.” He walked outside, moving through the pool and Jacuzzi area, and I followed close behind. “It’s almost three acres, so I don’t have to deal with the bullshit.”

“It must be tough.” As I walked up a few steps that led to what I guessed was a dining area, I spotted a small basketball court to my left, and a little smile curled my lips. “I mean, to have your picture in the lifestyle-and-entertainment section on a weekly basis.”

“I knew it would happen when I made the transition from drunken partier to businessman, but eventually they’ll find someone new to take pictures of. At least they don’t go out their way to follow me.” Stepping aside, he motioned to the outdoor dining area that overlooked the pool and basketball court. Between a stone island and a blazing fireplace sat a four-person table. It was already set, with champagne in a stainless bucket in the center and two silver domes covering the dinner plates on either side. “My housekeeper set this up not even five minutes before we got here, so it’s still hot.”

“Should I give you my panties now, or wait until after dinner?” I teased, but I was incredulous at how much effort he’d put into all this.

He held out the chair closest to the fireplace for me, and I sat down. “If you touch your panties,” he said, grabbing a couple beers from the fridge beneath the island, “you’ll be eating while my cock is inside of you.” Then, like he hadn’t just taken away my ability to properly form thoughts, he opened both beers and removed the lid from his plate, revealing a simple meal of mussel linguine.

Following suit, I shook the silverware out of my napkin and bit the inside of my cheek. “Do you threaten all your dates like this?”

“Never. Even I have reservations about exposing my dick in restaurants.” At my raised eyebrow, he explained, “I don’t bring women here.”

My hand froze around my fork midway to my mouth. “And why am I here?”

“Because I can’t get you out of my head.” Taking a bite of pasta, he leaned back in his chair and watched my expression closely from across the table. When I swallowed hard, he rubbed his thumb over the part of his nose that had been broken in the past and then pointed to my plate. “You should eat.”

I closed my mouth around a forkful of pasta, shutting my eyes as the flavor assaulted my taste buds. I’d been so busy at work today, I hadn’t eaten lunch, and this was divine. The moment I finished chewing though, I heard myself ask, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why can’t you get me out of your head? Why bring me here? Why do you want me?”

Continuing to eat, he tilted his head like he was strongly considering my question. Was he going to answer me? I scooped another bite of pasta into my mouth, and then a few more, my boot tapping impatiently against the stone patio.

“The first time I laid eyes on you, Lizzie, I wanted you. Do I need a reason, other than when we touched, I felt more in those five seconds than I ever felt in my entire goddamn life?”

I remembered the electricity between us, the way his fingers had tightened as our skin parted, and my own hand tingled. When he saw that I was holding it close to my chest, he nodded. “That’s why I want you. Now, eat your food, beautiful.”

*

I’d barely lowered my silverware to my empty plate when Oliver scooted his seat from the table. “Thank you for dinner,” I said. “It was amazing.” Following his movements with my eyes, I watched as he stood and grabbed the untouched bottle of champagne and the thin glass flutes by our plates.

“Like I told you a few weeks ago, I’m a man of my word.” His deep voice held an edge of promise, and a shiver of heat rushed through my veins. “Time for dessert, beautiful.”  He motioned his head for me to follow him, then started toward the pool.

Moving slowly so as not to trip on the stone steps and make a complete ass of myself, I trailed a few steps behind him, not pausing until we stood face-to-face beneath the waterside pergola.

Which doubled as a bedroom.

Somehow, when he brought me through here less than an hour ago, I hadn’t noticed the teak hanging bed centered between the pillars. How the hell I had missed it was beyond my comprehension, but it looked remarkably comfortable—a plush mattress covered in honey-colored Egyptian cotton sheets and a variety of bolster and throw pillows that complimented the overall vibe of his hacienda-style house.  “And you say you don’t bring other women here?” I thought I whispered under my breath.

Obviously he heard me, because a moment later, one of his hands rested against my ass and the other on my chin as he forced me to look up at him. “I fuck in hotels.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” I gently chided, ignoring the blatant hypocrisy of my words.

He bent his face closer, touching his forehead to mine and catching my breath. The tip of his nose brushed roughly against my own, and he held my face possessively. “I’m not lying. I want you, Lizzie, and I’m about to have you. I’m not going to stand out here arguing about who I’ve had before you because it’s a waste of energy for both our mouths.” Exhaling harshly, he tongued my upper lip, tilting my world on its axis one deliberate lick at a time.

“Tonight, you’re mine. That’s the only thing that matters,” he said before breaking contact with me to light each of the two outdoor lamps on opposite ends of the trellis.

With my heart jammed somewhere between my throat and ribcage, I was silent as he introduced light other than the moon’s glow to the area. Walking around the bed slowly, I brushed my fingers along the thick manila ropes securing the mattress in place. “Damn,” I whispered softly, only to be startled a second later by the sharp pop of the champagne bottle opening.

Setting the bottle beside the glasses on the compact bedside stand, a slow grin crept across his face. “Close your mouth, beautiful.”

Patience was definitely not a virtue of Oliver Manning’s because a moment later, he closed it for me, getting rid of the space between our bodies to slant his lips hungrily over mine. Plunging his tongue inside, he tasted me like I was his last meal, licking and sucking. “You smell so sweet,” he murmured between hot, wet kisses. “That perfume, Lizzie.”

I kicked off my boots one at a time, smiling gratefully at him when he steadied me. “I’ve been thinking about switching to a new scent,” I teased breathlessly.

“Never,” he growled, expertly removing my shift dress in one swift motion so that I stood before him in nothing but a black lace demi bra and a tiny thong. I felt a twinge of regret that I’d chosen underwear I’d purchased specifically for work—for Gemma’s work—but his slow nod of appreciation lessened the bite.  “The perfume is non-negotiable.”

Alternating between suppressing a grin and holding my breath, I drank in the sight of his incredible muscles as he stripped out of his boots, jeans, and t-shirt until nothing but a pair of designer boxers separated his body from me. God, who the hell was this woman staring at him? This couldn’t be Gemma—the woman who’d spent the last few years prancing around in bras and panties without so much as managing a flush. This woman, Lizzie, she was an entirely new creature. A creature completely enthralled by the gorgeous, built man who was seconds away from getting to her core.

But this had been a long time coming, and I was ready.

“I’d planned on doing this slowly,” Oliver started, pouring me a glass of champagne and handing it to me. I drank it lighting fast, almost like a shot, feeling the carbonation winding a bubbling path from my tongue to my stomach. My head was going to hate me for that in the morning, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was hearing what he had to say next, even if I had to coax it out of him.

“You’re going pretty slowly,” I objected slyly, but then my body went stiff when he circled around me. I heard him breathe in the scent of my hair, my skin, and I about lost it. “Really, really slow,” I added in a whisper.

“I was going to go slow,” he repeated. “But I have no. Patience. Tonight.”

Reaching for me, he clutched my hips and hauled me to his chest, his strong hand seizing the nape of my neck. I danced my fingers down his abs, shuddering as I traced the cut “V” I was desperate to lick.

“I want to taste you,” I admitted, wetting the corners of his full lips with my tongue. “I need to feel you.”

“You will. But first, this,” he said dangerously, “is for that Mar-ga-ret stunt you pulled earlier.” Lowering his hand from my neck, he smacked my right ass cheek firmly enough for me to gasp in mock outrage. “Don’t mention her again.”

“Fucker,” I growled, in spite of the heat pooling in the pit of my stomach, and he responded by tugging his lips into an arrogant grin. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“Now that we’ve gotten all my promises out the way, let’s get rid of this.” He unhooked my bra, tossing it over his shoulder where it landed somewhere in the darkness.

The pool. The patio. Who in the hell knew where it went—I wasn’t about to stand around letting it bother me.

I’d think about it tomorrow morning.

Looking at my breasts, he was motionless and speechless for several seconds before he eventually shook his head from side to side. An unfamiliar feeling—self-consciousness—hit me hard, and I started to cover myself, but he caught my hands in his. “You have an incredible body.”

“Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself there, Mr. Manning.”

Fingering the faded remnants of a scar on my chest, he stared down at me questioningly. “What happened here?”

“Coffee burn. My father left a cup of coffee on the sunroom table when I was four and I knocked it all over myself.” When his brows pulled together, I shook my head fiercely and stood on the tips of my toes, wanting him to kiss me. To take away all the memories tonight.

Hooking his hands beneath my legs, he brought us both crashing down on the bed. My head spun from the rocking motion, but before I could gather my bearings, he parted my legs. “This—this is why I came back from New York.”

He shoved my lacy thong aside. Without warning, he thrust two fingers into my sex, and I writhed beneath him.

Swallowing a scream of pleasure, I frantically whispered, “You came back from New York just to get into my panties?”

Laying his head between my breasts, he made a sound of disagreement. “I came back from New York because I couldn’t stand the thought of another man touching you like this.” To demonstrate, he tugged my nipple between his teeth. Sucking greedily until I moaned and curved against his mouth, he pulled away, leaving my breast wet and heavy. “Those thoughts—those kind of reactions—they’re terrifying,” he murmured, kissing beneath my breasts.

“How so?” I blurted, tightening around his fingers as he pushed them deeper into me, causing a visible shudder to run through him.

“Power, beautiful.” Without giving me a chance to ask him to elaborate, he covered my lips with his thumb. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

But he shook his head. “Close your eyes,” he ordered.

Throwing my head back on the pillow, I squeezed my lids together. Keeping the hand between my legs pumping steadily, he moved, and I felt the bed swinging back and forth, the motion oddly soothing.

I expected his tongue touching my pussy. He’d promised it, after all, and it was obvious that was his intention when he draped my legs over his broad shoulders and tilted my hips up. But what I hadn’t anticipated was the tingles that would burst across the sensitive skin when his other hand stroked my center just before his mouth.

Champagne.

He had drenched me in champagne and was now in the process of tasting it right off my body.

Wow. WOW.

Fluttering my lashes apart, I dug my fingers into his tousled hair, tugging his head back until our gazes met.

“Champagne,” I managed through my teeth. “Really, Oliver?”

Laughing, he dipped his fingers in his glass of champagne again and painted my swollen clit with his wet hand, his blue eyes devouring mine as he drank away the delicious little bubbles.

“You want to come already?” he asked incredulously, between sharp flicks of his tongue.

“What do you think?” I managed to gasp, half delirious from his teasing. God, I’d craved for this for so long. It was worth the wait.

So, so worth it.

“Do you want to come right now?” He opened my legs further apart, fucking me thoroughly with his long fingers. “Or do you want to wait for me?”

“I want both,” I panted, yanking harder on his hair. “I want both.”

For what seemed like a torturous eternity, he continued, sucking and stroking me until the orgasm finally hit me hard. It zipped through me, burning my senses, drowning out everything.

When the tremors stunning my body ceased, he pulled me up so I was on my knees and cradled my face with one hand. He didn’t seem to notice the swaying bed as he stared down into my eyes, or my hands shoving his boxers down and reaching ravenously for his cock.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out my thoughts. “God, that’s big.” And I would know. Throwing his head back to laugh, I took the opportunity to kiss my way from his throat to his chin, his day-old beard scratching my flesh.

Dragging his fingers through my blond locks, he forced my brown eyes to his. “I don’t want there to be a thing between your pussy and me.”

“I’m smart,” I jerked his erection from head to shaft, stroking until a few beads of liquid glistened the tip. I sucked the pad of my finger to lick it clean, and his hold on my hair tightened at the sight of me tasting him. “And I’m safe. You’ve got nothing to worry about with me.”

It was one of the few honest things I’d told him, and he nodded. “Good, me too.” Repositioning our bodies so that he was lying beneath me, he stared at me like I was a goddess. “You’re beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful.”

“What are you doing?” I whispered when his hands stroked my arms, spreading out over my palms. “Oliver?”

Securing my fingers around the ropes on either side of the bed, he grinned at me wickedly just before he raised my hips and stroked the thick head of his erection over my wet flesh. “I’m giving you both. My way.”