Текст книги "Lies Unspoken "
Автор книги: Lisa DeJong
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
PACKING THE COCKTAIL DRESS was a good call, I think to myself as I slowly walk into the eloquent dining room. It’s the type of place where even the wait staff looks ready to attend a fancy event, dressed in black linen.
“Are you waiting for someone?” a man with a slight British accent asks. I’m guessing he works here by the way he’s dressed.
“I’m dining with Pierce Stanley. I’ll wait here for him if that’s okay.”
He smiles warmly. “Actually, he’s waiting for you. Follow me.”
My eyes wander the room looking for Pierce as I follow behind the host. I don’t see him. When we reach the far corner, the reason is obvious—he’s tucked away in a small booth surrounded by three half walls. He picks up his glass of whiskey from the table, but the second he lays eyes on me he sets it back down. The power of his stare forces me to shift in my heels. Sometimes, he’s too much.
His lips part as he stands to greet me. “You’re stunning,” he says, lifting my arms to get a better look. I blush, looking down at my dress. It’s black, form fitting, and hemmed right above my knees with long sleeves and a deep V-neck. I’d bought it to wear to the rehearsal dinner Derek and I never had.
“Thank you,” I reply quietly. He doesn’t look bad himself, dressed in a tux similar to what he wore to the benefit. I’d bet he wears a tux more in one week than most men do in their lifetime.
He pulls a chair out for me. “I hope you’re hungry. I went ahead and ordered a couple appetizers.”
“I’m starving.” I sit in the chair he offered, unfolding my white napkin onto my lap. His fingers trail along my neck on his way back to his seat, giving me goose bumps.
“Can I offer you some wine?” Looking up, I see the host is still standing there watching our exchange.
I blush, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes, red please.”
“I’d like the lady to try a glass of your best,” Pierce instructs.
The host nods, disappearing around the corner, leaving Pierce nowhere to look but me. I pick up the small water glass, sipping it only to avoid conversation. It won’t last forever. All the flirtatious words, all the little touches throughout the day lead to this.
“Your water glass is empty.”
I choke on the little bit I still hold in my mouth, my eyes watering.
“Do you like filet?” he asks out of the blue.
“What’s that?”
The corners of his mouth turn up. “Filet mignon, or in English, a tender, lean steak.”
“Oh yeah, sorry. I guess I’m a little out of it tonight.”
The waiter comes to fill my wine glass, and Pierce places our order, kindly asking the waiter to leave us until our dinner is done unless a wine glass needs to be filled.
“I’m introducing a rule for the night,” Pierce announces as soon as the waiter is out of earshot.
“What’s that?”
“We’re not to talk about work.”
“Okay, what do you want to talk about? We covered quite a bit the other night,” I answer, bringing my wine glass to my lips. It’s rich and delicious, one taste leading to another.
“Tell me about where you grew up.”
Just thinking about it makes me happy. I grew up with something as close to a sitcom family as you can get. “My dad farmed, and my mom worked part-time as a receptionist in the doctor’s office. After they had me, they found out they couldn’t have any more children, so I was it, but it all worked out. I ended up a spoiled child.”
“You don’t seem spoiled at all.”
I shrug, taking yet another sip of wine. “Emotionally spoiled, I guess. We didn’t have a lot, but I felt like I had everything.”
He stares at me, lips parting slightly. “That’s one thing money can’t buy.”
“What’s that?”
“Love,” he says simply.
That’s one thing I’ve never thought much about. We assume that money equals happiness and that it allows a person to have everything they want, but it means nothing in the grand scheme of things.
I wet my lips, picking my next words carefully. “What about you? How was your childhood?”
He sits back in his chair, eyeing me warily. “Lonely.”
“Were you an only child?”
“I have one sister. My parents decided they needed to fail more than one child.”
My mind wanders in so many different directions. Was he abused? Did they abandon him? All of it makes my heart ache.
“My dad was a successful district attorney who eventually got a seat on the judge’s bench. I’m sure he was a nice guy at some point, helping so many people, but he was always too busy to spend time with us. I remember the things he bought, but nothing more.” His voice shows a vulnerability I’m not used to.
“And your mom?”
He sighs, running his hands over his face. “She didn’t work, but being the wife of a successful lawyer meant keeping up appearances. She was more concerned about how we looked and what activities we participated in than anything else. But don’t feel totally sorry for me, I had a very nice nanny.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? You didn’t raise me.”
I hesitantly reach my hand across the table, covering his. His eyes go to where our bodies are connected then back to mine. “That doesn’t mean I’m not sorry.”
The waiter chooses that moment to reappear, setting our sizzling steaks in front of us as well as a dish of grilled asparagus and roasted baby potatoes. “Anything else I can get you?”
I look to Pierce to answer, but he’s staring at me the same way he was a few seconds ago. “More wine, please,” I answer for him.
Our conversation turns to our high school and college days while we devour our dinner. I even let him in on more details of my life with Derek, how hard I fell, and how it all fell apart. Pierce alludes to a couple serious relationships, but nothing that went too far.
I’ve had him on this pedestal because of everything he’s accomplished at a relatively young age. Since the other night, I’ve seen a new side to him—one that makes being around him easier. He has way more than I do, but inside, where it counts, he’s just another guy. A nice, sophisticated guy who happens to be really easy to talk to.
“Wine?” Pierce asks, pointing to my empty glass. My thoughts and opinions are already swimming in a sea of alcohol. It’s too good. “Come on,” he urges, “I bought a whole bottle, and there’s just a little left.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Every glass has been going down easier than the last.
The waiter clears everything from the table. “Can I interest you in some dessert?”
I’m about to say yes, but Pierce interrupts. “No, thank you.”
I want to argue, but the look on Pierce’s face warns me not to. I wait until the waiter walks away with Pierce’s credit card to bring it up. “I really wanted chocolate.” I sound like a typical woman, but I don’t care. Plus, I’ve had wine, and nothing goes better with wine than chocolate.
“You’ll get your chocolate.”
When we walk out of the restaurant his hand takes its usual position on my back. “There’s somewhere I want to take you. Do you want to grab your coat?”
“Are we walking?” If we are, I’m in trouble. The alcohol makes it almost impossible to feel my legs. I could have gone without the fourth glass.
“The car is out front.”
Thoughtful.
Smart.
Charming.
He helps me safely into the car and climbs in the other side. I shiver against the cool leather seats, missing the warmth of the restaurant and red wine.
“Come here,” he instructs, holding out his arm.
Without hesitation, I scoot over to him, letting his arm fall over my shoulders. He tucks me against his body. Blame it on the alcohol or whatever, but it feels nice. “I’d offer you my jacket, but I like this better.”
“Me too.”
It’s completely dark outside, but the Christmas and city lights give it a layer of romance. I hate myself for even thinking this way, but this is one of the most perfect moments I’ve ever experienced. The company. The setting. The peacefulness.
“We’re here.” Pierce nudges me. If I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, it just did. “You said you wanted chocolate.”
We’re parked right outside of Serendipity. Thoughtful, definitely thoughtful. “I can’t believe you did this.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing, but it means everything to me. Our eyes lock under the faint streetlight. I can’t remember the last time anyone did this for me—taking a simple comment and using it to surprise me. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met, in the best possible way.
An invisible string pulls me to him until my lips brush against his. Light as a feather. Tender. I pull back, but he grips my chin between his fingers, holding me close to him. He covers my mouth with his, working his fingers back into my hair. My body has the warmth it didn’t have a few minutes ago, but it isn’t the fireworks I felt with Blake. It’s a slow simmer . . . it’s just different.
He puts a period at the end of the kiss by pressing his lips to mine three times over. As he pulls back, he smiles, running his thumb over my swollen lower lip. “Ready for some frozen hot chocolate?”
“Yes,” I answer. That little voice that keeps whispering doubts in my ear is back, but I quiet it. I’m living every woman’s dream in New York City; there’s nothing to be confused about.
I MOAN FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME, scooping every last bit from the bottom of my crystal dish. The hot chocolate is as delectable as I thought it would be.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a woman moan quite like that, and certainly not over chocolate,” Pierce teases, swiping his thumb along the corner of my mouth. “You had some whipped cream there.”
“You should try some. It’s by far the most delicious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
A wicked grin spreads across his face. “That’s unfortunate.”
We’ve been playing the flirtation game since we sat down. I bait. He catches. I really took off when I found out he doesn’t like chocolate. Who doesn’t like chocolate?
Licking the whipped cream from my upper lip, I find his attention on my mouth. The movement wasn’t intentional, but the look in his eyes tells me he believes it was. “Do we need to stop somewhere to get you dessert?” I ask.
He leans in closer. “I had my dessert . . . in the car.”
My cheeks heat, probably turning as red as the maraschino cherry on my frozen hot chocolate. “It’s a good thing you’re such a cheap date,” I shoot back.
“The best things in life don’t cost a thing.”
There’s been a weird buzz between us since the kiss in the car. I’m waiting for him to bring it up, but the only reminder I get is in his eyes—the constant glimmer. There’s a new look of adoration within them, more intimate.
And while the frozen treat gives me a reprieve from conversing, I let my crazy mind roam free again. Since I moved to Chicago, actually since things ended with Derek, I don’t have a clear picture of who I am anymore. Maybe I really did leave the old me behind and come into a new life completely. I had only given away a few kisses before meeting the guy I spent the last seven years with. The guy I gave my heart, soul, and remaining firsts to. Now, I feel like I’m just handing my affections away, or maybe I’m just tasting a little bit of everything while I decide what it is I really want.
The waitress sets the check on the table, shaking me from my thoughts. I reach for it, but Pierce grabs it before I get a chance, his warm fingers brushing mine. “My treat.”
“You didn’t even eat.”
He winks. “But I did.”
He pays, and we make our way to the door. This time, as we exit the building, he wraps his jacket around my shoulders, running his hands over the wool sleeves. “You have goose bumps.”
“December isn’t the best month to be indulging in frozen hot chocolate.”
“You have a point there.”
Our car pulls up to the curb, and Pierce quickly opens the door for me to climb in. He follows close behind, forcing me to scoot to the other side. “Four Seasons,” he instructs the driver.
The second the car starts down the road, I know this trip will be different than the others. No endless daydreaming. No peaceful quietness. Pierce’s hand comes up, gently caressing my cheeks, eyes searing into mine under the streetlights that flood through the window.
“It’s been a long time since I felt this comfortable around a woman,” he remarks, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I have a hard time believing that. You make being with you so easy.” It’s true. Since the initial butterflies wore off tonight, I’ve had a good time. He takes my mind off things it shouldn’t be dwelling on.
He closes the remaining space between us. “Can I kiss you again?”
If he’d asked me the first time, I would’ve had to think about it more. Now, the pendulum swings but only for a second. The line has been crossed—any anti-fraternization policy that Stanley Development defied.
“You don’t have to ask,” I answer, staring at his lips. He kisses me—one long, lingering kiss that would make the most ordinary of places feel romantic. His lips are warm against mine. The more he takes, the more I want to give . . . the more I want to want him.
As he pulls away, he looks down at me with hooded eyes. I crave more . . . so much more. I want to take what he offers, forget about all of my other missteps. Nuzzling the crook of his neck, I inhale the sexy scent that’s tormented me all night. I could get lost in it, sleeping for hours just like this.
He wraps one arm around my shoulders, pulling me tightly against his body. His other hand grips my knee, and ever so subtly slips between my thighs. My muscles go rigid at first, but then I relax into him.
His hand slides higher, and on instinct, I look into the rearview mirror. The driver is only feet away. He probably sees everything. Hears every sound we make.
“He can’t see this,” Pierce whispers above my ear.
I tense, trying to find it within myself to let him in, to let adrenaline control me for once. His long fingers curl between my thighs, keeping them from traveling any higher. “Do you want me to stop?”
Every decision has a consequence, big or small. Kissing him earlier was one thing, but this is different.
The answer becomes clear when I look up, catching the lust in his eyes. Desire must be contagious because I hunger for him, for his lips, his hands.
“Don’t stop,” I answer. I close my eyes as his hand slips up higher, his fingers a light brush against my skin.
And as he kisses me, he works his way up to the edge of my panties. His lips are more urgent, pressing harder, almost punishing. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?”
I moan into his mouth, tugging his hair between my fingers.
He runs his fingers against the tingling spot between my legs. I gasp, ready for whatever he wants to give. “You’re going to undo me if you keep making sounds like that.”
I part my lips to apologize, but he uses the opportunity to press his tongue into my mouth. His chest touches mine, caging me against the seat. I’m completely under his spell, captivated by every stroke of my skin. He lowers my defenses. And, he makes me forget . . . that’s the best part. When I’m with him, I’m just . . . with him.
Our tongues caress.
Our bodies collide.
The spark is there, igniting my hands on him, his on me.
The car comes to a stop. Pierce groans, reluctantly breaking away. I miss his warmth. “We’re here,” the driver announces.
I rub my fingertip around my mouth, checking my lipstick. Pierce helps the cause, smoothing down my skirt and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Where’s the traffic when you need it?” he grumbles under his breath.
The driver startles us by opening the door. Pierce begrudgingly he climbs out, holding his hand out to me. The cool air feels good against my flushed skin as I step onto the sidewalk, but the warm tingle between my legs doesn’t go unnoticed. The thought of asking to take a few more laps around the block crosses my mind. That thought rings louder when I notice the impressive bulge that tugs at his zipper. I imagine what he’d be like in bed—a true gentleman with immeasurable confidence. I imagine his lips on every inch of my body . . . the pleasure he’d give me.
Those thoughts melt away as he tucks me under his arm, quickly ushering us through the lobby to the elevators. We wait quietly for the doors to open, his arm never leaving me.
When it finally dings, we step inside, alone again. His lips descend on mine—hungry, wanting. My back is pushed against the wall, his hips grinding against mine. I wish this were the movies . . . that the elevator would suddenly stop so we could finish what we started.
We reach our floor far too soon. Our hands stop their exploration when the door opens, but our bodies remain glued together, neither of us wanting to make the first move out of the elevator.
“Come to my room,” he pants, eyes reading mine.
I hesitate, my chest heaving against his. He leans in, kissing me again. It’s a plea—one I’m having a hard time denying with his warm body against mine. Blake’s needing eyes flash through my mind like a burst of lightning, but I let the vision fade. Pierce is here, not pushing me away. No games. He even cared enough to take me out, which is something Blake never did.
I wrap my arms around his neck, washing away any doubts. He practically carries me to his door, only letting go to take out his key card.
He sets me down, carefully slipping the jacket from my shoulders. The slow caress of his fingers against my skin makes the simple move seductive. I’m ready to feel his hands on me . . . everywhere.
He leaves me standing alone while he loosens his tie from around his neck and tosses it on the dresser. His eyes roam over my body as he kicks off his shoes. His stare holds me, and even though I’m fully clothed, I feel naked. To escape it, I build a wall, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Arms down,” he commands.
I shift on my feet, searching for the confidence I’m not sure I’ve ever had. Especially with his dark, piercing eyes on me.
He strides toward me. I take it as a warning, letting my arms fall to my side.
Maybe I’m here for all the wrong reasons—too much wine, a heightened need to feel wanted. I couldn’t have picked a better man to rebound with. Not that I can really call it that; I’m rebounding from my rebound. I don’t know a whole lot about Pierce, but I trust him not to hurt me, not to use me for his own selfish needs and discard me like I’m nothing. I don’t want to feel that way again.
I want what every woman wants . . . to feel wanted.
Pierce slides his fingers along my collarbone then between my covered breasts. He moves slowly, calculating my reaction to every touch. He’s an expert at everything he does.
“Are you sure? Because if you’re not, I need to know now,” he whispers against my ear. I had a lot to drink, but I’m present in the moment. I want him, to know what he can do to me.
I answer without words, running my hand along his hard length. He groans, sliding his hands around my back to work my zipper down. The dress slips with his fingers, leaving me standing in nothing but green satin bra and panties.
He steps back to get a better look. “You’re stunning. Absolutely stunning.”
I watch him under the moonlight that illuminates the room. It’s sexually exhilarating—the way his eyes stay on mine. The way they communicate his desire and desperation.
“Turn around,” he instructs as he unfastens the buttons on his dress shirt.
I want to question him, but I know better. Instead, I turn so my back is to him, oblivious to what’s going on behind me.
“Jesus,” he growls. I hear shuffling behind me but don’t chance a look. The anticipation leaves me wet. Maybe this is part of his game—to cause an ache so intense I want to beg for him.
I hear his footsteps on the marble floors. I inhale a sharp breath when his hands cover my hips, sliding under the curve of my ass. On instinct, my head falls back against his shoulder, allowing me to sink into him. To give him the control I know he craves.
He kisses the side of my neck while his hands splay against my stomach. “Lila,” he murmurs against my skin. “Do you know all the things I want to do to you?”
His fingers slip into the front of my panties. I moan, rocking my head back. His actual touch is so much better than the anticipation.
“Tell me what you want. Tell me where you need me,” he demands, teasing me by sliding his fingers a little lower.
“Touch me,” I beg, wiggling against his palm.
“I think I’m already doing that. You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”
He’s so in control, and I’m so out of it. I grip his wrist, placing his hand lower, exactly where I need it. He takes the hint, curling his finger into me. “Feel what I do to you.”
I whimper, wanting more. Fast, slow . . . I don’t care. He uses his body pressed against mine to move us forward to his bed. It’s the first time I panic, or maybe the wine is starting to wear off. When my knees touch the bed, the thoughts of the two other men I’ve been with flood my mind. It shouldn’t be this hard, but I just got over one, and then Blake . . . I still think about him all the time.
Closing my eyes, I push all those thoughts away, bringing myself back to the moment. Pierce isn’t Derek, and he’s definitely not Blake. I press my lips together to keep myself from stopping him.
He craves me.
If I let him have what he wants, maybe he’ll make me crave him too.
Before I get a chance to crawl on top of the bed, he unclasps my bra, letting it fall to the floor. His hands come around, rolling my nipples between his fingertips. I’m wound tightly, the pressure between my legs increasing.
“I have rules,” he says, still teasing my sensitive skin. “I don’t come until you come. Your eyes stay on me while I fuck you. And . . . you sleep naked in my bed when we’re done. That is, if we ever finish.”
I swallow, gripping the high thread count sheets between my fingers. “I only have one rule.”
His fingers still. “What’s that?”
“Don’t hurt me,” I whisper.
His hands slide down the curve of my back then curl around my hips. “I couldn’t,” he answers, pressing his lips to the center of my spine. His voice is smooth and comforting. I wish I could wrap my arms around it and hold it tight.
Without warning, he flips me on my back. He slowly stands back up, holding me to him with his eyes. I watch as his shirt falls to the floor first followed by his suit pants. My gaze falls to his muscular chest before going further to his defined, narrow abs.
“Are you staring?”
“Maybe,” I answer, squirming under the weight of his eyes.
He ups his game, slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs and slowly inching them down his thighs. He’s magnificent . . . there’s no other way to put it. Watching him is making my stomach twist into knots. I wonder how many women he’s had before me, and how I even compare.
“I see you thinking. Stop thinking.” He kneels in front of me, hooking his fingers in the side of my panties to slide them off.
This is it.
This is that make-me or break-me moment.
He comes back up the length of my body, peppering my stomach and breasts with soft kisses. “Just feel,” he says against my lips before moving back down. He laps at my breasts then sucks my nipples. I curve into him, threading his hair between my fingers. The light stubble that covers his jaw line feels amazing against my skin.
He moves down, brushing his lips over my stomach. I know where he’s going, and I want it . . . I want him. He slips down out of my reach, kissing between my thighs. I whimper, buckling under him. I literally ache for more.
His mouth works me perfectly, sucking, teasing with his tongue. The build-up from everything else he’s done only allows me seconds before the familiar tingle has me breathing faster, gripping the sheets tightly. Lapping. Sucking. He’s pushing me up Mt. Everest. I wrap my legs around him, throwing my head back as the orgasm rips through my body.
“Oh God!” I scream as the last current flows through me.
My body is pliant. He traces his tongue up my stomach between my breasts, and when he kisses me, I remember why.
“I love hearing you scream.” He nibbles on my neck, brushing his palms over my nipples.
He sits up, staring down at me. “Eyes on me.” I watch as he picks up a condom from the side of the bed, carefully rolling it on his hard length.
Something inside me shifts. I realize that for the last few minutes, it wasn’t Pierce between my legs. It wasn’t Pierce who’d carved his way into my subconscious. Old wounds haven’t healed enough to allow new ones.
Tears fill my eyes. What have I done? What am I doing? This girl is lost somewhere in a dark, unforgiving hole . . . and she just wants out.
I feel him at my entrance, and I panic, bracing my hands against his chest. “Stop! Please, stop!” I yell.
He’s paralyzed, looking down at me with concerned eyes. “Am I hurting you?” he asks, his voice trailing off.
“Yes,” I say honestly.
He flinches.
“It’s not what you think.” I pause, squeezing my eyes shut to hide from the disappointment in his eyes. “I’m not ready. I thought I was, but I can’t. I just can’t.”
He lifts off my body, withdrawing from me. The tears spill over. God, I hate this . . . all of it. Why couldn’t I have fallen for Pierce first? What if he would have asked to see me again when we got off the plane? What if I would have called him sooner? Life is a bunch of stupid what ifs.
“Does this have to do with him?” Pierce asks, standing with his back to me.
I could lie. Tell a figment of the truth, but I’m already lying naked in his bed. There’s no point in hiding.
“Yes.”
