Текст книги "Defending Pacer"

Автор книги: T. J. Hamilton

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

CHAPTER TEN

She looks so beautiful. It’s completely different to how I’ve seen her during the past two weeks. She’s so relaxed and sexy, and I love it.

Her hair is flowing down past her shoulders for once, and it’s just how I imagined it. My dick is demanding my attention—or rather it’s commanding her attention. Her soft skin felt like silk. I want to lick every fucking inch of it.

“So how did you know where to find me?” Her voice sounds shaky. Is she nervous?

She’s fucking switched on. I need to watch myself.

“You told me you always come here on the weekends.”

“I did? When did I tell you that?”

She looks confused. I’ve fucked it. Serves you right for being a desperate prick! Quick. Think quick, you fucking idiot.

I shrug. “It was when I walked you home from my Uncle’s restaurant.”

Just buy it. Please just fucking buy it.

Her smirk is sheepish, and she glances down. “Oh. Yeah. I think I remember that.”

The tension inside my gut loosens. That was too close. I need to keep my head together. She has me doing stupid things.

“This is a nice car.” She looks around the interior and rubs her hand along the leather door rest. I imagine her rubbing her hand along my cock. I want to fucking punish her for doing this to me. She has me more stirred up than an un-popped bottle of champagne that’s been shaken. Any minute now, I’m going to fucking explode all over her.

That’s it! I’m going back to fuck her pillow again tonight. I can’t fucking handle this.

“So where are we going?” Her grin is gorgeous. I just want to kiss those lips.

I realise she’s changes the subject again when I don’t respond to her. I can’t fucking think straight. “You wanted me to surprise you.” I smile. “So how are all the details of the case going? You must be onto something if you messaged me at one in the morning?”

Her eyes shift to Giorgie behind the steering wheel.

“He’s my godson. I should’ve introduced you, sorry. Giorgie, this is Chelsea. Chelsea, this is my nephew and my godson¸ Giorgio. He’s my sister’s oldest. He’s a good kid.”

“Hi Chelsea.” Giorgie is as gruff as usual. Makes me laugh. He reminds me of what I was like at his age, except he’s a cleanskin. Not a charge on him in his eighteen years. He’s smarter than I ever was. He’ll make a great boss for the family one day, and he doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty either.

Chelsea takes her time to talk. “Well, I’ve uncovered a lot. There’s so much more to this than just your charge.”

None of this is news to me, but I’m not surprised that she was able to uncover it either.

“Go on,” I encourage.

“I’d rather talk about it, alone.”

“I trust Giorgie with my life.” I wish she would just loosen up.

“It can wait. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day. We’ll talk after I get some food into my system.”

I’ll fill your system with plenty of food, my honeybee.

“Can’t have you hungry now,” I lower my voice, hoping to make my sarcasm obvious. Her bossiness gives me a boner, every time.

We pull into the driveway of Catalina restaurant and Chelsea’s frown doesn’t look approving.

“You don’t like Catalina?” I probe.

“I love Catalina. It’s just that my parents know the owners really well. It’s probably bad timing coming here. I think we should go somewhere more discreet.”

The car stops. Giorgie opens her door just as I step out from the back seat.

She hesitates so I take control of the situation. “Lucky I booked a seaplane to take us up to the Hawkesbury River then.” I hold my hand out for her to take.

Her beaming smile is so infectious. It makes me want to do everything I can to see it all the time. She takes my hand and grips around the leather of my glove. She pauses and stares at her hand in mine.

That’s right, honeybee, your hand looks good there, doesn’t it?

Still holding onto to her, I lead her around the side of the building and down the to the pontoon, where a pilot is waiting for us next to a seaplane.

“Hi, Mr and Mrs Park?”

Chelsea glances to me.

I answer before she can, “Yes. That’s us.”

“Welcome aboard.”

The pilot shakes my hand and I help Chelsea into the back of the cabin. My hand subtly rests against her ass cheek as she takes the small steps of the plane. Moments like this I wish I had more tactility through the thickness of the leather covering my hands. Although, there’s no telling what I’d do to her if I felt the heat of her ass through her pants.

Taking my seat next to her, I lean across and hand her the headset to put on. I do everything I can to get close to her. Her smell is sending my insides crazy.

I can feel her watching me, but I try not to make eye contact. I can’t. Who knows what I’ll do to her if we lock eyes at this point.

The pilot climbs into his seat and pulls his headset on, too, his voice sounding through my headphones. “The flight to Cottage Point will be nice and smooth. We have clear skies all the way and a nice headwind to take off in. Couldn’t get more perfect conditions if you tried.”

Chelsea looks at me, and smiles. There it is again.

Fuck you are beautiful my, honeybee.

She puts her hand on my thigh and narrowly misses the head of my cock. The position it’s in is due to my half chub. I just wish the fucker would relax. He’s hungry as a beast for some honeybee.

I take her hand in mine as my balls tighten and constrict from the tension. Her eyes drop. Did she just realise what she almost touched?

The smile on her face is subtle, and the microphone is picking up her heavy breathing, centimetres from her open mouth. The plane’s engine loudly kicks in and drowns out any other noise.

The pilot turns to face us. “I’ll be switching off my headset for privacy once we take off.”

He finishes writing in his logbook then turns his attention to the control board, flicking switches.

The plane surges forward and we glide along the surface of the water. As we gain speed, the small waves thump against the two floats underneath. We bounce around for a while until the engine roars and we weightlessly lift off the ground into a smooth ride.

I watch Chelsea. Her face is turned away from me as she looks out of the window, but I can tell she’s smiling. I wonder if she’s ever had a guy take her away in a plane like this? Despite the way she acts, she comes from wealth, so a flight like this isn’t out of the ordinary for her, surely? But the way she’s behaving, it’s as if this is all new to her.

I gaze down at her hand, still in mine, and give it a light squeeze. She turns to face me.

“Have you been on one of these flights before?”

She chuckles and she replies, “Yeah, but I never get tired of it.”

Fuck, I’m an idiot. Of course she’s been on one of these flights. What a stupid fucking question, you cock-head.

Her green eyes sink into me. “So how come you don’t fly planes yourself? You know, like all those men in the fairy-tale romance stories.”

“Who said I was a fairy-tale?” I laugh. “Not many rich guys really have time to learn how to fly planes, especially not ones like me. I’d rather just pay someone else to fly me around.”

She laughs with me. Thank fuck. The only way to battle this embarrassment is to humour her. Why does she think I’m like a fairy-tale? Is she really like every girl I’ve ever met, all wanting their Prince Charming to sweep them off their feet and have a fucking happy ever after? Doesn’t she realise that doesn’t always happen in my world? You have to fight for the happy, and as for the ever after? Well, that’s even harder to get when there’s always a target on you. That’s my reality.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“If you keep your eye out, you may just catch some whales. We saw a pod yesterday when we flew over here.” The pilot’s voice sounds through the headphones again.

It’s safe to say that this is the most romantic thing a guy has ever done for me, even if it’s just a plane flight to have lunch. I’ve gone out to dinner with guys—I even dated a guy for four months once. Nothing felt like it fit into my life. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realise nothing ever will fit into my life. None of them felt nice, except this. This feels nice.

The farther we get from Sydney, the farther we are from our troubles.

“There’s some.” The pilot points to the window next to him. “Let me bank down closer. They’re the Humpback whales, more than likely on their way up to Hervey Bay in Queensland with their babies. It’s their annual migration.”

The look on Pacer’s face is so sweet. He looks at me with a smile, and his eyes are soft and gentle. I’ve never really noticed the dark colour of them before. They’re a deep brown and appear almost bottomless. The smile that he’s trying to hide is as if he’s embarrassed about enjoying this moment. Does he think he’s too hard to be soft? Maybe he didn’t even realise how nice this was going to be.

He lifts his arm up, coaxing me to lean over him and get a better view of the whales. His body feels amazing against mine. I can feel his heart beat vibrate through his chest. I also feel the hardness of it under his clothes. The sound of my heartbeat thuds in my ears, and I put my palms against his thigh and use him as leverage to look out of his window better. I hope I get to touch his trouser python a bit better this time. From what I think I felt before, that thing is a monster. It makes my mouth salivate at the thought. The top of his thigh flex under my fingers. They’re strong, powerful legs.

He looks down at my hand on top of his leg before his eyes quickly meet with mine again. I can feel the heat from his body. He watches my face, taking all of me in. I like him watching me. The intensity of it is strange and alluring. It makes my nipples harden and my clit pulse. I squeeze my legs together and sit up straight. He glances down. Did he just notice that? Fuck, he’s intuitive if he did.

My breasts are forced outwards in this position, touching distance from Pacer’s hands. What I wouldn’t give for him to just rub a finger past my nipple. Just one would be enough.

Slowing my breathing as best as I can, I focus on the four long dark shapes in the ocean. They’re in the shape of whales, but they’re so tiny from up here. But I really don’t care about whales right now. I could practically mount Pacer from here.

As the plane dips to the left, I’m forced up against Pacer even more. He reaches for the side of my face and brings me to him. His eyes are still soft, but there’s also a yearning in them.

“Fuck rules.” I feel his breath against me when he speaks.

Our lips collide into each other’s, and I don’t even think about it any more. My body has taken over all my rational thoughts, and now it’s just running it’s own course, straight to Pacer. His tongue slips into my mouth and rubs against mine. It feels hot and tense. I tingle all over from the sensation of it. Our tongues dance in a beautiful harmony with each other, as if they’re having a conversation of their own. There’s a lot to be said about the power of a tongue. I squeeze my legs tight together and my clit pulses with excitement. I’m doing pelvic floor exercises without even meaning to.

Fuck, this is intense.

His lips.

Fuck me, his lips.

I let them slide all over my mouth. The kiss is deep. The kiss is two weeks of built-up tension and two days of absence from one another. I feel his hand slide under the headphone and around the back of my neck. His fingers weave through my hair, and he pulls me against him as his kiss intensifies even more. The pulse that was just in my pants is now all over my body. Pins and needles tickle the top of my head. Holy shit, I could rip my clothes off, right here, right now.

His tongue moves back from my mouth, and I lean in to pull him back. It can’t stop. Not now. I reach up to his face and slide my fingers through his stubble. My palm tingles.

He grabs my hand and gently pulls back again, much to my disappointment. Seriously, I am going to forget how to breathe soon.

I slowly open my eyes. Pacer’s dark eyes are on mine, and they crinkle in the corners as he smiles. All that remains of our intense kiss are soft pecks as my lips refuse to leave his.

Wow, he mouths, so that the pilot doesn’t hear. Although I’m sure he knows what’s going on in the back of his plane.

I chuckle. I feel like such a teenager. But I’m not. I’m a professional woman … who just kissed her client.

Shit!

Straightening up, I sit back in my seat. I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. I’ve wanted to kiss him for days, but now that it’s happened, I feel embarrassed about it and instead choose to look down at my hands in my lap to lessen the heat in my cheeks.

I wish that didn’t just happen. Or do I? God, I don’t know. Why does this have to be so damn confusing?

“Hey.” Pacer’s voice comes through my headphones.

He leans in to me and removes my headset. The noise of the plane is loud, but I feel Pacer’s breath against my ear as he speaks.

“I’ve wondered what that would feel like for days.”

I hear him clearly in my ear. I can’t help but smile.

I lean into him, and he removes his headset too. “Me too. But I have a rule about seeing clients. Don’t get me wrong—I really like you … a lot. But it’s really unprofessional of me.” I raise my voice so he can hear me.

“I like breaking the rules.” His hot breath is on my ear again.

For once in my life, I can’t argue that point.

I put my headset back on to muffle out the sound of the plane. We dip down and bank around a long sandy beach. We fly into the wide inlet of the Hawkesbury River and veer into the smaller creek. The waterway narrows and we fly over a small green ridge.

“We’re just coming in to land now.” I hear the pilot again.

We fly over the top of a white motorboat and gracefully come in to land on the water. I love the landing of a seaplane. No rough thud as you hit the ground, but instead a gentle slide followed by some swaying from the water. It’s always very relaxing.

We float over to the pontoon at the front of Cottage Point Inn restaurant. As we pull up alongside the wharf, a guy grabs the rope on the side of the wing and pulls us into the edge. The pilot gets out through his front door and opens the rear for us. Pacer, the persistent gentleman, exits and holds his hand out to help me down from the plane. He doesn’t let go of my hand as we walk up the wharf to the restaurant. The feel of his leather glove excites me. It feels really dominating, but in a protective way. I feel safe.

“Mr and Mrs Park, right this way. We have the table up the back reserved for you, as per your request,” the young male waiter announces, as we walk up to the entrance.

I chuckle. It’s surprisingly nice to be referred to as ‘Mr and Mrs’. I could get used to it.

The restaurant has a rustic feel to it, like an old wooden boat shed. It’s so isolated and quiet out here. I feel as if we’re a world away from the drama we left in Sydney. Maybe we can just be ourselves out here?

“This was a great idea,” I say to Pacer, as he pulls my chair out for me.

The leather of his glove rubs across my skin as he sweeps my hair aside and leans down to kiss the side of my neck. His stubble against my skin naturally makes my eyes close, taking in all the wonderfully different sensations.

God, he feels good.

Yes, I can definitely get used to this.

“You have the degustation menu set for you today. Would you like to start straight away?” the waiter asks.

Pacer answers without hesitation. “Yes, straight away, thanks.”

For someone who is always in strict control of my life, it’s really quite refreshing not to be, for once. There’s something about having Pacer take control that feels so natural. I don’t think I’ve ever let a man take control as much as he has in one date. Is this a date? I guess it is. Considering the romantic element, you would call it a date. Right?

“You look deep in thought.” Pacer takes his glove off and runs the back of his finger along my arm.

I break from my continuous self-analysis, and automatically revert back to work mode.

“Yeah, I was. So there are some things that have come to light about your investigation.”

“How about we just enjoy each other? All this professional shit can wait.” He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses it gently. “Plus, you wanted to eat first, remember?”

He has me in such a fluster that I forgot I was even hungry. Now I have a different type of hunger —one that’s not going to be satisfied in a restaurant.

“I still don’t know how I feel about all this touchy-feely in public. I don’t want to give the newspapers anymore to talk about. My family would be so upset, and you may lose your case over this.”

Pacer reaches to my cheek, brushing my hair back from my face again. “That’s why we’re here. I’ve paid the staff accordingly to keep this discreet.”

“But what about the other patrons? This is what I mean, Pacer. We have to be careful. The media will blow this story wide open, because it will sell papers. I know how they work. And they pay the public good money for information like this. We can’t just pay everyone off every time we go somewhere together. It’s not that easy.”

He shrugs. “I can afford it.”

“And when you can’t afford it anymore? Then what?”

“Then we’ll just run away and join the circus.” He winks playfully.

“I’m serious. We need to be careful about who sees us together socially. We come from two different worlds. If people see us together on a non-professional level, it will ruin all creditability with your case.”

His left eyebrow rises—just the one. That’s some good brow control. It’s sexy as fuck.

“Are you sure there’s nothing more to your concerns? Why are you here if you’re so worried about your creditability?”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be here at all, and there is more. Our families know each other, and hate each other. You know how you said you were raised by your Uncle because your father was murdered in prison?” Pacer’s hand slips from my cheek. “Well, my Dad was the one who put him there.”

“Yeah, Carlo told me that.” He doesn’t seem too discouraged by the news.

“So us being in public is a loose decision, both personally and professionally.”

The waiter brings over our wines, breaking the moment between us. “The is a nice torrontés wine from Argentina. All your wines are matched with each serving today.” He places the glasses in front of us.

We both pick our drinks up in unison and take swift gulps, our eyes locking throughout the whole sequence. It’s intense.

I don’t taste the wine. It’s a cold liquid that’s hitting my tongue—that’s the extent my mind is registering beyond my struggle over Pacer.

It’s all but gone by the time I realise the waiter has left us. I put the wine glass down before I crack it from the pressure in my hands.

Pacer, on the other hand, slams his wineglass against the table top. Surprisingly, the glass doesn’t break, but it creates enough of a noise to make me jolt.

The waiter returns with two large plates that have little sectioned pieces of a meal in the centre. Suddenly the situation seems so ridiculous—we’re arguing over life, death and work at a restaurant accessible only by air, and here’s a plate with the tiniest little decorated piece of food? I laugh like I like I always do when I see posh meals that end up looking more like art than food. It’s so pretentious. Why can’t food just be food?

“What’s so funny?” Pacer asks the moment the waiter turns to walk away.

I chuckle as I speak, “Sometimes food just looks ridiculous.”

He starts laughing too, and suddenly the tension in my neck relaxes. I’m here now, so I might as well enjoy the moment for what it is.

I finish the three mouthfuls of the meal before Pacer drops his cutlery down and snatches my hand in his.

“I can’t take this anymore,” he says as he abruptly gets out of his chair, my hand still within his grip.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you to a house of mine, because you’ve been teasing the fuck out of me for days.”

He grips tight around my hand and leads me out of the restaurant. I grab my handbag quickly as he pulls me. He reaches in his pocket as we pass the waiter’s station and throws a pile of hundred dollar bills on the counter.

“We’ll be back later.”

Holy shit!