Текст книги "Mid-Life Love"

Автор книги: Whitney Gracia Williams

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Jonathan turned to face me and smirked. “It’s going well? Is that what you’re trying to say? Do you need help spitting it out, or are you almost there?”

Fuck you, Jonathan...

I nodded and tucked my lips in, trying to remain as still as possible as wave after wave of pulsing pleasure rippled through my body.

“Claire? You sure you don’t want to get that checked out?” Michael sipped his wine. “I know a specialist you can use.”

“No...” I caught my breath. “I’m okay and my day is going very well...”

He suddenly stood up from the table. “This is an emergency page from one of my nurses. I’m sorry, but I have to take this.” He walked out of the room.

“You should try the steak strips, Claire.” Jonathan smiled and removed his fingers. “They’re very succulent.”

He IS insane! “I can’t believe you! You are so—I don’t even know what you are! Why would you do that in front of him?”

“Would you prefer if I did it behind him? When he comes back, we can move the table around and try it. Maybe then I won’t have to deal with him eye-fucking you.”

“He was not! He was being extremely polite! Was that the only reason you invited him? So you could further inflate your ego?”

“No, I did that because you lied to me about the directors’ meeting a few weeks ago.” He laughed. “You didn’t think I forgot about that did you?”

I rolled my eyes. “So you’re really not mad about today?”

“Mad? About today? About the guy I told you to get rid of showing up to your office with flowers because he thinks he still has a chance? Or about this same guy kissing you on your lips right in front of me? Which part?”

“I told you it wasn’t—”

“Tell him you’re not interested or I will.” He planted a kiss on my neck and stood up. “I’ll go talk to the chef and see you back at corporate later...Oh and Claire?”

“Yes?”

“I am the jealous type.”

Chapter 12

Claire

“I am the jealous type...” “I am the jealous type...”

I replayed Jonathan’s last words in my head over and over, knowing that if I was sane I would walk away. No, run away. Far away.

I would stop answering his calls and text messages, ignore him in all of our meetings, and act as if we’d never crossed paths. But I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried to resist him, every move he made and every word he said only drew me in deeper.

I’d finally admitted to myself that I liked him. A lot. But I didn’t want to dig myself into a relationship that I knew would never work out for the long term. So, starting this week, I did the only thing I could do to prevent him from getting too close too soon: put a little distance between us.

I went home early on Monday and Tuesday, skipped the directors’ meeting on Wednesday, and on Thursday—after he asked me to meet him in an emergency stairwell, I told him I had a headache.

There was no way I was getting out of our “first real date” tonight though—not that I’d been thinking about canceling it anyway. I’d been looking forward to it all week.

“See you in a few minutes.” Jonathan texted me.

I adjusted my earrings and ran a brush through my hair, checking myself in the mirror. I was wearing my favorite silver strappy heels and a short emerald-green dress that perfectly complemented my eyes. Its soft satin fabric tightly hugged my hips, its V-neckline made my breasts look a full cup size bigger, and its slimming sleeves fell right below my elbow.

My phone sounded. Jonathan.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Claire. I’m outside your door.”

“I’m coming.” I tossed my phone into my clutch and looked at myself in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs.

You’re just “dating” him, Claire...I know you two agreed to be “exclusive” but it’s not serious and it never will be....You’re just “dating”...

I opened my front door and tried not to gasp once I laid eyes on him. To say that he was “perfect” would be an absolute understatement—an insult. Everything about the way he looked tonight was impeccable, flawless.

He was wearing a tailored black tuxedo and his sleek dark hair was slicked back in smooth waves that I wanted to run my fingers through. His beautiful blue eyes were twinkling against the night, regarding me with glances that made me think he was going to rip my dress off right then and there.

We both lingered in the doorway, staring at one another, not saying a word.

“Are you ready?” He smiled and reached for my hand, leading me down to a waiting limousine. He opened the back door and ushered for me to step inside first.

“We’re ready, Greg.” He hit the button that divided the driver’s section from our section and looked over at me. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that no one at corporate ever asked you out on a date before I did?”

“It’s true...People flirted with me every now and then, but I think the ‘divorcée with two kids’ rumor warded a lot of people off. It’s not like I was the most approachable person either...I wasn’t trying to date anyone.”

“Hmmm...”

“Where are we going?”

“On a date.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m aware that it’s a date. I’m just wondering why I needed to wear a dress and why you’re wearing a tuxedo.”

“You’ll find out.” He moved closer and pressed his lips against mine. “I didn’t see you after work yesterday...”

“I had a headache, remember? I decided to leave early.”

“Are you feeling better now?” He started trailing tender kisses against the base of my neck.

“Yes...” I suppressed a moan. “Much better...”

“Will Doctor Clarkson be joining us on our date tonight? Did you tell him you were sick again or did you tell him the truth?”

“I told him I was seeing an extremely jealous and possessive man who would keep fingering me in public if I didn’t break things off with him immediately.”

“Sounds great.” He pulled me into his lap.

“You’re ridiculous...I told him I was seeing someone else and gave him Sandra’s number. They’re going out this weekend.”

“Even better.” He pushed the speaker button on the door. “Greg, could you take the scenic route please?”

“Yes sir.”

“I haven’t seen you at all this week...” He ran his hands across my thighs. “My days have been completely thrown off.”

“Flattery doesn’t work well with your persona, Jonathan. I prefer your inappropriate comments and your not-so-subtle threats.”

“You haven’t missed me?”

“No. Should I?”

He sighed and repositioned me in his lap. “You’re going to stop lying to me one of these days.”

“Jonathan...” I felt him slowly hiking my dress up and tried to move. “Your driver is in here!”

“What’s your point?” He touched between my thighs and reached for my panties but I wasn’t wearing any.

“I don’t want to have sex while he’s—”

“You clearly wanted to have sex at some point tonight.” He pinched my clit.

“No, I clearly didn’t want a visible panty line. I’m not...” I tried my best to act unaffected by the warm kisses he was placing on my neck, on my shoulders, on my back. “I’m not...I’m not having sex with you right now.”

He let out a low sexy laugh and began unbuckling his pants, un-wrapping a condom.

“I’m serious Jonathan,” I murmured unconvincingly as he slid my dress up even further. “I don’t...I don’t want to have sex in a limo.”

“Then you should’ve worn a different dress.” He pushed me up and out of his lap and before I could lunge towards the side seats, he pulled me back down by my shoulders.

He slowly lowered me onto him—my back was facing his chest, and I tried my best not to cry out, but it was no use. I screamed as he filled me with every inch of him, as he flexed his hips and moved me up and down.

Jesus...

“Jonathan—”

“Yes?” He kneaded my breasts with his hands.

“I...”

“You want me to stop? You want me to let you go?”

No...

He pinched my nipples. Hard. “I can’t hear you.”

“I said...I said no...”

“Ride me.” He let my sides go and leaned back, letting me take full control.

I gripped his knees and arched my back, using my balance to swivel around in circles. I started off slow, but I wanted more of him—needed more of him, so I thrust myself onto him harder and harder, riding him with wild abandon.

He reached around and rubbed my swollen clit with his fingers, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh godddd, Jonathannnn...”

“You feel so good, Claire.” He groaned. “So good...Tell me when you’re almost there...”

He locked me in his arms and slowed my pace down, pressing his head against the back of my shoulder.

“Are you close?”

“Yes...” I moaned. “I...I—” My body was quivering, shuddering—getting ready to explode, but before I could let go, Jonathan pushed me off of him.

He turned me around and positioned me across the seat’s bench, straddling me—not re-entering me.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’ve been doing?” He hissed.

What the! “What? What the hell are you talking about?” I thrust my hips up to meet him, but he pinned them down.

“Going home early? Skipping directors’ meetings? Sudden headaches? You think I haven’t noticed?”

“I...” I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to reach my orgasm right now and him denying me one was beginning to hurt. “Can you please—”

“You think I’m going to put up with that shit?”

“Jonathan, I—”

“I don’t like mixed signals and I don’t half-ass anything, Claire—especially things like this. Do you understand me?”

I felt my eyes widening, felt a mix of shock and frustration ripping through me.

“Yes...” I panted. “Now, please—”

“Please what?”

I could barely speak. My clit was pulsating in pleasurable pain; my body was in desperate need of a release.

“You don’t like the way this feels? Being denied something just because someone wants to take a step back all of a sudden? For no good reason?”

“No...” I murmured.

“I don’t either.” He kept my hips pinned to the seat and began kissing the inside of my thighs, driving my need to cum even more. “Let’s see what happens when it’s completely held back though. Let’s see how the aftermath really feels.”

Damn him! “I’m sorry for doing all those things, Jonathan. I wasn’t trying to send you mixed signals. Now, please...” I was practically begging, writhing underneath him.

He slid his tongue up past my navel, in between my breasts. “You’ll stop playing games with me?”

I nodded my head.

“Say it.”

“I’ll stop...”

His eyes softened as he looked at me, as he contemplated what I’d said. He slid into me and thrusted in and out—slowly, gently, and within minutes I was shutting my eyes and screaming, reveling in a much needed climax.

“Fuck...” Jonathan collapsed on top of me seconds later.

We were both panting heavily, in sync with one another, and before I could catch another breath, I felt him kissing my lips and pulling my dress down.

I didn’t want to open my eyes yet. I didn’t want to look at him or see his ‘I’ve got you right where I want you’ face. I simply spread my legs and felt what I already knew was coming: the soft swipes of a cloth, the gentle kisses against my forehead and neck.

“Claire?” His sultry voice almost made me wet all over again.

My eyes fluttered open and I realized he was staring at me. I wanted to look away from him, to pretend that I was mad for that ridiculous orgasm denial, but all I could do was stare back.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He pulled me up and put his arm around me, holding me against his chest.

We quickly slipped into silence, into that ‘I’m-perfectly-comfortable-with-you-silence’ that I’d only ever enjoyed with him.

I looked out the window and saw that we were still in the city; I figured that Jonathan saying “scenic route” must have meant drive around in circles because my house was a mere ten minutes away and we’d been in the car for much longer.

I started wondering about where we were going—tonight and long term. I didn’t want to think about it, but I couldn’t help it since he’d seen through my distancing attempt: What if this turned into an actual relationship? What if we did last a long time and he wanted kids in the future? Should I introduce him to Ashley and Caroline? Were we at that point yet? Did I really like him that much or was my “like” clouded by his good looks and the mind blowing sex? Was this something we were both doing to—

“Stop that.” Jonathan tilted my head up and kissed me.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking—about this, about us.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Stop it.”

“Mr. Statham?” The driver’s voice came over the speaker.

“Yes, Greg?”

“We’ve arrived sir.”

“We’ll be right out.” Jonathan kissed me again and waited for the driver to open the door.  He stepped out of the car and reached for my hand. “Does this place look familiar?”

“Yeah, it’s the Golden Gate Br—” I stopped and looked around. There were no cars coming or going in any of the six lanes, no tourists camped out on the railings, no pedestrians taking a late night stroll.

In the distance I could see a single table covered in a white tablecloth and hundreds of giant red candles surrounding it.

“You had the entire bridge blocked off?” I gasped. “I—”

“I did.” He squeezed my hand and walked me towards the table. “You mentioned liking the architecture of this bridge before. I thought you would appreciate it a lot better if you had it to yourself for a while.”

He remembered that? “I thought we agreed on no public—”

“I took care of everything.”

My mind was spinning. For one, I didn’t think he’d really been listening when I was talking about my love for the structure of bridges—I’d said that the first time we spoke on the phone. And two, I was remembering how it cost my team fifty thousand dollars to reserve a small photo-esque landing on the bridge for the sPhone blue commercial. I couldn’t fathom how much it cost to completely re-route traffic and shut down the entire bridge.

I looked up and expected to see news helicopters humming about, trying to zoom in on who or what had shut down the largest bridge on the West Coast, but there weren’t any. It was eerily calm and the only noise was coming from the sloshing waters below.

He pulled my chair out and motioned for me to take a seat. He planted a kiss on my forehead before sitting down across from me.

“Good evening, Mr. Statham, Miss Gracen.” A waiter in a white suit appeared. “What type of wine would you prefer tonight?”

“I’ll have whatever she’s having.” Jonathan looked at me as if he were waiting for me to choose.

“Do you have DeLille Chaleur Estate Blanc? 2010?” I asked.

“Yes. Excellent choice, Miss.” The waiter walked away and quickly returned with two crystal wine glasses. He filled them and handed us a menu. “This is the menu for the Michael Mina restaurant, Miss. The chef has substituted all the seafood items with his signature French and Italian dishes. I’ll return shortly to get your order.”

“Any particular reason why you chose the Michael Mina menu?” I smiled at Jonathan.

“I was stood up there once.” He sipped his wine. “I never had the chance to enjoy it with the beautiful woman I was supposed to meet.”

I looked over the menu, appreciating the fact that he’d remembered I didn’t like seafood. I decided to order the nine course option that featured baked lamb and caramelized chicken.

Jonathan ordered the same and the first course was brought out within minutes.

The presentation of the food was surreal. Every vegetable was bright and plump; every piece of meat was tender and brown. It almost looked too perfect to eat.

I took it all in once more before picking up my fork and tasting a bite of the appetizer.

This is amazing...

I tried to think of something to say, something to discuss, but I was utterly speechless. No man had ever paid so much attention to a date’s details before, not even Ryan.

“Do you like the food, Claire?” He looked into my eyes.

“I love it...Its perfect.” I smiled. “If you don’t mind me asking, how much did you have to pay to get the city to let you do this?”

“You really want to know?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

“I just want to know...It cost us fifty thousand to rent a quarter mile with traffic. Did this cost you one million? Two?”

“A lot more than that, but you’re worth it.” He smiled and sipped his wine. “Ready for the next course?”

The waiter brought out course after course, and by the time dessert was brought out, I could only eat a spoonful of the peach flavored mousse.

“Come on.” Jonathan stood up and reached for my hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

I stepped over to the railing of the bridge, looking down at the ocean. A strong gust of wind blew against me and I shivered.

“You’re cold?” Jonathan took off his jacket and placed it over me.

“Thank you...I know we’re barely in spring, but have you ever wondered why it’s so cold here in the summers? When I first moved here I was looking forward to sunny summer days but they’re worse than the winter months.”

“The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. That’s what every local says when people ask about the summers.”

“A Mark Twain quote?”

“Supposedly.” He laughed. “They claim he said it but I’m not completely convinced...I like to read a lot too.”

Really? “What’s your favorite book?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh...”

“I promise.”

“Harry Potter.”

I tossed my head back and laughed hysterically. “What?”

“You promised.” He pulled me close and kissed my hair.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that at all. Were you one of those people who went to all the midnight book releases?”

“No.” He shook his head. “No one ever took me to anything like that. I snuck off to the bookstore on the weekends and read the entire book in the store until I went off to college. As a matter of fact, the first purchase I made once I started making money was the entire collection in hardback and paperback. I even have the signed editions. What’s your favorite book?”

“I have way too many...”

“Top five?”

“What genre?”

He looked down at me and smiled. “Are you naturally difficult or do you work extra hard to be?”

“I’m not difficult...I like Animal Farm by George Orwell, Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, any book written by Joan Didion, and The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi.”

“Hmmm. I’ve read all of those except Eat, Pray, Love. I’ll have to check that one out to see where your head is...Can I ask you something personal?” He backed me against the red railing.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” He lowered his voice and looked into my eyes. “It’s a really personal question...” He tugged at my necklace.

“Yes...”

He pressed his chest against mine. “In the past, how many guys have you been with?”

“Two.”

“Two?”

I nodded.

He smiled and clasped my hand, walking me further and further down the bridge, towards a group of black benches that were spread out across the lanes.

“So, is the third guy the charm, Claire?”

“No, that’s not what I....I meant two including you.”

“What?” He stopped walking. “Your ex-husband was your first?”

“Yeah, we were high school sweethearts...Before him I messed around with a few guys here or there, but we never had traditional sex—just kisses and dry humping and...” I sighed. “Are you in desperate need of an ego boost right now? Are you going to ask me which one of you is better?”

“I don’t ask questions I already know the answer to. What is traditional sex?”

“Are you twelve or twenty eight?”

“Twenty-nine in the summer.”

“It’s just sex. You know, what you and I have been doing for a while.”

“Does ‘traditional sex’ include oral?” He joked.

I stilled. I looked out over the ocean and focused on a small tugboat that was making its way towards us. I needed to figure out a way to change the subject.

“Claire?” He cupped my chin. “Did you say yes?”

“That’s too personal...”

“No it’s not. Tell me.”

I sighed. “Of course I gave him—”

“I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you.”

“No...But that doesn’t mean—”

“Ever?” His eyes widened.

“My ex was very straightforward. He always said that wasn’t his thing. I was a virgin when we got together so it never really bothered me. You can’t miss what you’ve never experienced, you know? What we had was good.”

He stared at me a long time, slowly blinking, shaking his head in disbelief. “Okay...Let me ask you another question. Did you two ever have sex outside of your bedroom?”

“He never fucked me in a room full of people if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Did he talk dirty to you?” he whispered in my ear.

“Jonathan!”

“Did he?”

“These questions are completely—”

“Necessary. I’ll take that as a no...” He trailed his fingers down my backside. “Did he ever explore you here?”

“No...And that’s not something I ever wanted him to do.”

“Why not?” He gently squeezed my ass.

“Because that’s...It’s—”

“Immoral?” He laughed and pulled me down onto a bench. “We’ll discuss it one day.”

“How many women have you been with, Jonathan? Fifty?”

“Fifty?” He smirked. “Including you?”

Oh my god, there’s MORE? “Is that number too low?”

“Too high.”

“Forty nine?”

He laughed. “Seventeen.”

“Wow...”

“Why do you look so shocked?”

“It’s...It’s less than what I expected, but that’s still a lot of women...Were you in relationships with any of them?”

“A few. One was a friend with benefits who I saw whenever I wasn’t in a relationship.”

“And before you had sex with me, when was the last time you’d had sex?”

“Six months before you.”

“Well, that’s actually quite shocking. Were there no other women at corporate who wanted to be dragged into secret rooms or bent over your desk afterhours?”

He shrugged. “No reason, really. I was too busy and I have to be extremely careful when it comes to women.”

“Because you have attachment issues?”

“Would you like to be fucked on the Golden Gate Bridge tonight?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I don’t have attachment issues...I have to be careful because some women are only into me for my money, or are more interested in going to the press and blackmailing me than dating me.”

“Has that ever happened?”

“Not unless you’re going to attempt it. Should I be worried?”

“No...” I leaned back. “So, where do you honestly think you and I are—”

“I told you to stop thinking about that.” He moved me so my back was flat against his lap.

“I just want to know if—”

He bent down and kissed me. “It doesn’t matter right now,” he whispered. “I’m not dating anyone else and neither are you. Let’s just see where it goes...”

I lay like that for a long time, gazing into his eyes as he gazed back into mine. I wanted to ask him more questions, questions about all those women he’d slept with, but after he kissed me for the umpteenth time, I forgot what I was going to say.

Over the sound of the sloshing waters, I heard the roaring of a car in the distance and realized the limo was driving back towards us.

“Mr. Statham, the bridge will re-open in ten minutes sir.” His driver pulled in front of us and rolled down the window.

“Thank you, Greg.” Jonathan eased me out of his lap and helped me back inside the car.

I thought we were going to continue our epic-long-silence-saga and ride back to my place without talking, but he pulled me into his arms as soon as the car pulled off.

He crushed his lips onto mine and kissed me passionately, making me wish he would take things further and undress me. But he didn’t. He used every single second of the ride to explore my mouth with his tongue and possess my lips with his.

When the car stopped outside of my house, he slowly moved away from me and sighed. He walked me up to my door and slipped his arms around my waist. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yes. Thank you very much...Are you sure—”

“No one saw anything. You and I are a secret—just like you wanted.” He gave me another open mouthed kiss that made me lose my balance and fall right into him. He held me tighter, rubbing his hands up and down my back, kissing me so intensely I lost all my thoughts.

I didn’t want our kiss to end. I didn’t want our night to end, but I wasn’t sure if Ashley and Caroline were in the living room; I hadn’t told them anything about him yet.

Before I could consider the idea any further, Jonathan gave me one last passionate kiss and stepped back. “Goodnight, Claire.”