Authors: Evelyn Glass
He edged forward the barest distance and stopped again, resuming his delicate kisses around her ear. Her nails were claws. She didn’t mean to hurt him, she didn’t want to, but her nails were digging into his skin, and she wanted to ask if she was hurting him, but he was just growling for her, snarling in her ear, driving her insane, and the orgasm came out of nowhere, blindsiding her with its intensity. She couldn’t help herself: her body drew in breath to scream, and his mouth clamped over hers, swallowing her sound as he plunged forward, slamming into her, piercing her until she thought she would die from the mixture of pleasure and pain that centered around him.
His hands supported her back as he drove into her, leaning her back over the table as he pounded into her. She could feel his body clenching and twisting already, desperate to drag out one more iota of pleasure before he crumbled, his body going limp and his mouth buried against her neck as he choked back his own cry of pleasure.
They melted down to the floor, and he gathered her up in his lap, tossing the condom and smoothing her skirt down, then snuggling her in tight against his chest. “You amaze me, princess,” he said. “Do I deserve you?”
She shrugged. “I never figured that deserving mattered.”
“No? Why not?”
“I want you. You want me. That’s enough for now. After all, if people only got what they deserved—I don’t know at you, but I swear at a lot of drivers when I’m trying to cross the street.”
He laughed and cuddled her a little bit closer. “Fair enough.” He was warm and strong, even as lean as he was, and she loved the way her head fit in the space under his chin. She loved the scent of him, warmth and heat. She loved— well, everything about him.
“I want you to move in with me.”
She leaned back, trying to keep the look on her face as neutral as possible. “I’m sorry. You want me to what now?”
He chuckled softly. “Move in with me. Keep your apartment, I get it, but…stay here. It’s safer, until we figure out what happened to Cindy, and it’s more comfortable for you.”
“I like my studio.”
“Call it your office, then. But I…” His face fell just a little. “I like having you here. I’ve never wanted another person in my space before, in my home. But when you’re gone, it seems emptier here. I want to—I don’t know, find you on the couch and have you explain the horrible science fiction movie you’re watching to me, or tell me all about why the book you’re writing is amazing. I want to see if this thing we have is just sex, or if there’s more to it.”
She should say no. She knew she should. She should say no, and pull her skirt down and go home to her shitty little apartment and her vibrator and her Joni Mitchell albums. “Okay,” she said.
“Well, this is adorable.”
The tone was cutting and vicious. Zoey tried to scramble to her feet; only Alex’s arms around her waist kept her grounded. “Hello, Mother,” he said, cool and calm. “Something I can help you with? The party is in the great room.” He laughed, then, snapping his fingers like he’d just had a marvelous realization. “Ah, you know that though! You organized the whole thing, after all.”
“Claire is having a delightful time,” Olivia fired back.
“Claire would have preferred pizza and movies with her friends.”
On some level, Zoey suspected that Alex was picking this fight to get the other woman’s attention off her. It was kind, but not necessary. She eased up this time, moving a little more carefully, and then turned, faced Olivia directly, and offered her hand. She let the Louisiana drawl all the way back into her voice, and pretended that she was standing in the country club with her daddy and her white gloves. “Hello, ma’am,” she said. “My name is Zoey Gardener, and I’m a friend of your son’s.”
The woman did not take Zoey’s hand. She looked so little like her son that it was somewhat shocking. She had a much darker complexion than he did, and her eyes were set closer together, her nose sharper. There was a fierceness in her expression that Alex didn’t have, not even when he was being the CEO man. She looked to be in her mid fifties, and she’d aged well. She didn’t have the over-treated look of a lot of women in her social class. If she’d had work done, it was subtle.
“Friend,” she said. Scorned, really, but who was keeping score. “That much is obvious.”
Alex stood behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t start.”
“Your sister wants to cut her cake,” Olivia said, her eyes smoldering with anger. “It would be nice if you bothered to attend her, since you are the host of this…affair.” She turned and stormed back out of the room.
Zoey watched her go and shook her head. “That,” she said quietly, “Was not worthy of Emily Gilmore.”
“What?”
She chuckled. “Never mind.” She started to walk out of the room, but Alex held still. She turned back to him, a smile on her face, but it disappeared quickly as she took in his tight brown and his set jaw. “Alex?” It was a moment before his eyes flicked to her, and his expression didn’t soften. “Are you okay?” Her stomach curdled with fear in a moment. “Are you upset that she saw us together?”
That seemed to jar him out of whatever was twisting his head up. “What? No, absolutely not.” He stepped toward her, took her fingers in his, and kissed her knuckles gently. “Something just struck me. The wording of Philip’s will.”
“What about it?” Zoey couldn’t quite contain the annoyance in her voice. The old bastard couldn’t have been like everyone else and just written a clear, concise will that determined the distribution of some money and assets? He must have been a stubborn old bastard, or a devious shit, to make things so complicated.
But instead of diving into yet another explanation of how Philip Blankenship had made things complicated for his children, Alex shook his head. “It’s done,” he said. “We don’t know anything about—the rest of it, and it’s just Claire and I. There’s no point in worrying. The rest of it—even if it’s possible, Mother wouldn’t go that far.” But he sounded, for all the world, like he was trying furtively to convince himself.
“Alex—”
But he shook his head, and she could see him pressing his smile out, big and broad and easy. “It’s nothing to worry about tonight. Let’s go watch my sister cut her cake.” He took her hand, and she followed him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After the cake was cut, and the guests sang an off-key happy birthday to Claire while she smiled like a pretty little ornament, and Olivia wore a tolerant smile that bespoke what a truly good mother she thought she was, the crowd began to thin out. Olivia never spoke to her again, but Zoey felt the woman
’s eyes on her more than once. She stuck close to either Alex or Claire the rest of the night. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why the woman was giving her the willies, but there was something in the intensity of her gaze that made Zoey feel like her skin was coated with a light layer of frost. She didn’t look away from many people, but she didn’t mind at all that she needed to look away from Olivia Blankenship.
Every time Alex looked at her, though, or found a chance to brush his fingers over the small of her back, or her arm, or trail one single fingertip over her palm, her skin tingled with electricity. She hadn’t really answered Alex’s invitation to move in. Her thoughts swirled in a circle as she tried to see the best course to take from here. Her relationships had always stayed firmly on the level of fun, not serious, and moving in was serious. It wasn’t something you did after just a few days.
Unless you did. Unless you just dove for it, because really, who got to make rules about your relationship besides you? And maybe she wouldn’t think of it so much as moving in as sleeping over. For a few days. And see if the shine wore off, or if she was so sick of the place that she desperately wanted to go home to her crappy little studio.
The guests filtered out, Olivia went home after accepting a cold kiss on the cheek from her son, and passing him one more frosty glance. Claire, full of cake, had made plans for breakfast with friends, and excused herself to get some sleep. Zoey watched Alex worry about letting her go, and then accepting that it would be okay. He felt sure that whatever danger there was had passed them by.
She wanted to believe it herself. She wanted to believe that everything Cindy had tied together was coincidence, a frightened woman seeing a plot because she’d been forced to hide a secret for most of her life. It would be easier for everyone if that were the case. And maybe it was. Maybe she’d been involved in something else, something nefarious, which had been what really got her killed. Maybe she was mentally ill, suffering from paranoia or—something. Anything.
She was reaching for straws, Zoey could recognize that, but it was easier than being afraid.
The caterers were busy packing up the foot and picking up the apartment, when Alex drew Zoey into the den again. “I noticed you didn’t really answer me before,” he said, settling into the corner of the couch and inviting her to join him. She did, pressing herself up against his side, kicking off her shoes, and curling her feet under her. “You said ‘okay,’ but I didn’t get a chance to see what you were saying okay to.”
She considered her words carefully. “It’s too much for me to say I’m going to move in right now,” she started. She felt him tense up against her, and she hurried on to spit out the rest of the words. “I’d really like to stay for a few days, though. And see what happens.”
He was quiet long enough that she had to look up and see what expression he wore. When she saw his easy smile, something deep inside of her loosened. She leaned up, pressing her lips against his. He cuddled her against him, running his fingers over her hair and her back, soft and gentle.
“You’re luscious,” he whispered as his hands eased the hem of her dress up above her hips so that he could take the curves of her ass in his hands. She sighed against his mouth, then nipped delicately at his lower lip.
“I’ve been described a lot of ways,” she said, “But luscious isn’t on the list. Angular, stick figured, sure. But not luscious.”
“How about generous,” he said back, his fingers curving down to the tops of her thighs, spreading her legs gently apart. “Ever been called generous?”
She laughed then, and he took advantage of her arched neck to plant lightning kisses along her throat. “Never. I’m a very greedy lover.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” His fingers traced up her inner thighs, stopping just short of where she so wanted them. She was soaking wet from before, and she could feel the wet heat of her building again.
“That’s because you tell me what you want. And what you want is what I want.”
“Fascinating.” He kissed her again, nipping along her collarbone. “What do you want, then?”
“Right now? You.”
“Just like this?”
“This is good for now.”
His fingers on her inner thighs again, questing so high and no higher, torturing her with how close they were to her. “And what if you want something I’m not giving you?”
She leaned back just enough to give him what she hoped was a quiet, calm look. “Then I take it.”
She felt his body respond with a needy little twitch. “Show me.”
“For example,” she said, letting her tone veer businesslike, even though she felt anything but. “I really want your fingers on my cunt right now. So I might—” She stood, turning his body so that he was sitting up, his legs stretched the length of the sofa, and then she rested against him, turned so that her back was against her chest, and her knees fell to either side of his. “Make that really clear.” She took his hands, pulling one around her to reach her breast, tented and taut even inside of the thick fabric of the dress, and brought the other down to her heated cunt.
He didn’t tease her then. He slipped one finger inside of her wet and dripping lips, stroking her from front to back, making her shiver.
Luscious
, she thought.
This is. Luscious
. And then thought started to shatter into fragments,
want
and
need
and
yes more like that
. He was somehow an expert at torturing her even with his fingers, reading her so perfectly, playing her like a fiddle.
“I should take you to bed,” he murmured, kissing along the back of her neck.
“What about the caterers?” She tilted her head back so she could see him.
He gave her a curious look that made her want to giggle. “Sophia will see them out. It’s no problem.”
“If you’re sure,” she said, but by then, she was mostly teasing. Before had been wonderful, hot and eager, and it had taken the edge off her wanting him, but if she ever grew tired of the feel of his body against hers, she was quite sure it wouldn’t happen any time soon.
But as she stood, his phone rang. He rolled his eyes and said, “Sorry,” as he leaned carefully to the side and pulled the phone out of his pocket. Confusion crossed his expression, and he swiped to answer the call. “Luke?” he said, and her hands started to shake as nervousness crept through her. “Yes, I’m at home, we just wrapped up my sister’s birthday party.” He listened for a moment, then his eyes flicked to Zoey. “I’m not sure how that’s relevant.” Another pause. “Should I call my lawyer then?” The response to that question was vicious enough that Zoey heard the tone, if not the words, and she saw Alex wince. “We’ll be here. You’re on my list anyway, so they’ll send you up.” He ended the call and stood. He pressed a light kiss to her cheek, and then stepped away. “Apparently, we’re going to have company. I’m going to ask Sophia to get together a small plate and something to drink. Stay here. I don’t want Luke talking to you until I’m there, at least. I’d rather you didn’t say anything to him at all.”
“What’s going on?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure. He said that he was coming here as my friend, not as the commissioner, and I trust that, but—there’s being friends, and then there’s breaking the law. Luke will bend it. But only so far. It pays to be cautious.”
She sat down again, and kept herself as still as possible. She heard Luke come into the apartment, heard Alex try to deflect him, and heard the police commissioner demand to speak to her immediately. In the end, it was just a few minutes until he was standing in front of her in the den. She’d never seen such a small man looking so incredibly angry. His eyes were dark and furious, his hands were white-knuckled fists, and his shoulders were locked in position.
He tossed an evidence bag onto the couch next to her while Alex frowned. Zoey looked at it without touching it. Inside the bag was a thumb drive in the shape of the ubiquitous Hello Kitty figurine.
Well. That answered the question of whether or not the police knew.
“Why don’t you tell me why your name,” Luke said, stabbing a finger at Zoey, “and his, and his father’s, is all over that thing?”
Don’t miss the sizzling sequel
Available Soon!