I splash my face with warm water and use a fluffy red towel to dry it. The linens, the bedspread, and towels are all five-star quality. One thing’s for sure: Belmont has impeccable taste, right down to his Cavalli sneakers. Believe me, I noticed.
As soon as I turn off the faucet, I hear a faint knock on the bedroom door. I give myself a final once-over. I’m glad Belmont likes my hair like this. Whenever I know I’m going to be trapped inside for a week, drinking coffee and writing, the first thing I do is wash the straight right out of my hair. I get the makeup off my face and put on a long baseball T-shirt and leg-warmers.
There’s the knocking again.
“I’m ready!” I say as I trot over to the door, thinking it’s Belmont. When I open it, there’s Charlie, looking madder than a raging bull. “Hi,” I say apprehensively.
“Here’s your purse.” He shoves the bag at me.
I’m slow to take it, but he doesn’t let go. His eyes roam past me to study the messy linens on the bed.
“Did he make you climb the walls, see stars?” he asks in a stinging tone.
My mouth falls open. I’m speechless. He’s made me feel so cheap.
“He’s good at it, isn’t he?” he continues with a cruel expression.
I still don’t know what to say.
“Ask him why he’s so damn good at fucking you.”
On that note, Charlie stomps off down the hallway, still shirtless and wearing the Bermuda shorts from last night.
Chapter 5
The Self-Appointed Tour Guide
I’m still vexed by what Charlie said. I walk down the hallway barefooted, carrying my shoes in one hand. The premium hardwood floors are so glossy it should be a crime to trample on them in shoes.
Belmont has taped signs on the walls that say, “Kitchen This Way” with an arrow pointing me in the direction I should go. It’s certainly a bit overstated to go through all that trouble, and Charlie has me doubting his brother’s authenticity. If that was his goal, then it worked. Why would Charlie know that Belmont’s good in bed? It’s simply weird. I’m sure he is insinuating that Belmont has had tons of girlfriends, which I’ve already guessed. I mean, look at him. He’s suave. If his “tactics” worked on me, then they’ll be as easy as biting into cotton candy if used on the average girl. Normally, I’m not easy to pick up.
When I make it to the kitchen, I see Charlie sitting at the large island separating the fabulous gourmet kitchen from a plush lounge area. The lounge is adorned with a purple velvet three-piece sectional facing a contemporary fireplace that’s cut into a glass wall. The beach is the backdrop. It’s a magnificent sight
Belmont stops reading the paper to regard me. I’m not sure if that look means he approves of what he sees or not. I’m suddenly aware of the fact that I care, which is
not
good. He leaps off the stool and rushes over to plant a minty kiss on my lips. “You’re sexy,” he whispers in my ear. “Stay in with me today.”
“Shit, Jack, I’m trying to eat,” Charlie grumbles, scowling into his waffles.
“Who’s Jack?” I ask, suddenly confused.
“My middle name is Jaxson,” Belmont mumbles, glaring at Charlie, who’s grinning like he’s holding back a secret.
“Like Action Jackson?” I ask, chuckling at my attempt at a joke.
Charlie snorts because he finds it funny.
Belmont just smiles lazily. “Almost. J-a-x-s-o-n.”
“Oh, nice.” I take a seat at the island in front of a waffle loaded with fresh plump blueberries and sliced strawberries. “Is this for me?”
I gaze at Belmont. He says that I’m sexy, but that road runs both ways. His bright eyes look as if they could perform magic, and the way his top lip curls up toward the tip of his nose gives him a bow-tie smile. I’ve never seen a man blessed with that feature before, and I’ve traveled all over the planet. His face is unique.
“All yours.” He’s flirting with me with those mesmerizing eyes.
Breakfast looks tasty, and I’m so hungry I dig right in. Usually I’m busy doing something while eating: polishing an article, planning my next pitch, research, reading my colleagues’ work etc. Suddenly I feel like I have idle hands. “Do you have a newspaper?
The
New York Times
possibly?” I ask Belmont. I realize that I’m reaching.
He laughs out loud and holds up a finger. He trots from around the breakfast bar and out of sight.
“I thought I’d take us out to Noman’s Land today,” Charlie says when we’re alone.
I frown at him, wondering if he’s serious. Just in case Belmont’s near, I whisper, “I can’t go with you.”
“You can do what you want. It’s not too late to choose me. We’ll take the
Columbus
.”
“What’s the
Columbus
?” I ask, even though in my heart, I’ve already rejected his offer.
“My speedboat.” He’s simpering, watching me with starry, hopeful eyes.
“Why do you like me? Is it because Belmont does?” I’m discerning his affections may be the result of sibling rivalry.
Belmont’s heavy footsteps approach. Charlie leans in close to whisper, “Because I saw you first.” Charlie and I are still looking at each other when Belmont drops a newspaper on the tabletop between us. “Chuck? What are you doing?”
“Asking her if she wants to take a ride with me.” Charlie hasn’t backed off yet.
“She doesn’t,” Belmont hisses.
“Are you sure, Jack? We were vibing last night before you showed up. Isn’t that right, Daisy?”
My lips part in awe, and Belmont takes my chin to plant a kiss on my mouth with Charlie still only inches away from my face. That one kiss sends me floating as soon as our lips touch.
“She’s not going with you, Chuck,” Belmont says.
Charlie sits up straight and hops off the stool. “I know. And it’s too bad.” He flirts with me with his eyes before he heads out, leaving his breakfast half eaten.
“What’s up with you two?” I’m forced to ask after Charlie strolls out of sight.
Belmont glares at me accusingly. “If you like him, then…”
I’m waiting for him to finish whatever he was about to say, but he doesn’t. “Listen, I like Charlie because he’s nice to me—even if he isn’t so nice to you—but that’s all.” I can’t be rational and divulge the truth to Belmont at the same time, which is, I can never be into anyone else but him at this juncture.
After a long moment of silence, he nods, accepting my explanation. “I’ll make us coffee then. I’ll make it strong. I don’t want you falling asleep on me when we go back upstairs.” He shows me his naughty-boy smirk.
“Yeah… I was thinking about later.” I keep my eyes glued to my plate. If I look at him, I might lose my willpower. “I have to do some work today.”
What we did upstairs was an epic mistake. I’ve never had sex with anyone I didn’t love, and I couldn’t be in love with Belmont so fast. I certainly like him a lot—an awful, awful lot. He’s charming, sexy, and seems to adore me for some strange reason. He knows nothing about me really, and vice versa. Maybe he’s a psycho. They always charm women in the beginning. He can’t be looking to empty my bank account because he’s far richer than I am. Our entire encounter is weird. It almost feels like a set-up, a practical joke.
I hop off the stool, determined to go upstairs, retrieve my purse, and head out. “I can see you later tonight though. Maybe you can take me to dinner or something?” I beam at him.
Oh shoot, here he comes. Before I’m able to step back to avoid his embrace, he takes me in his arms.
“Hey…” He lowers his face to look me in the eyes, and my eyes can’t avoid his. “If you don’t want to stay in bed, that’s fine. I got greedy. You want to call a cab to take you around the island? I’ll pay for it.”
“Why are you coming on so strong?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”
“Because you’re the one, Daisy,” he says bluntly. “I know it even if you don’t.”
“I’ve seen scenarios like this on TV. Are you a rich guy looking to lure a wife, put a life insurance policy on me, and…?” I use two fingers to slice the air in front of my neck.
Belmont’s hazel eyes brighten as he laughs out loud, but I don’t laugh with him. I’m dead serious—no pun intended.
“No,” he answers as if he’s talking to a crazy person. “And if I had those plans, do you think I would tell you?”
My eyes expand with horror. “Wrong answer.”
He squeezes me tighter. By the feel of things, he’s ready to have sex again. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers hoarsely.
My mouth is caught open, giving his tongue space to slip right in there. My lips feel softer lodged between his, and then we taste each other with gentle, warm tongues. He’s expertly leading the dance of this kiss. The longer we do this, the more we can’t stop. I whimper and sigh. I feel as if I’m floating on air.
Maybe Belmont’s right. We are meant to be. We certainly have intense sexual chemistry. Or, as Charlie suggested, maybe he’s just good at this.
“Hey,” I breathe as I force my lips to part from his.
“What? Do you want to stay in? We can do this and only this. I can make out with you all day and all night long.”
My head is spinning. I want to take him up on his offer, but instead I keep my focus. “No, that’s not it. It’s just that Charlie asked me to ask you why you’re so good at ‘f’ing’ me?”
“What’s ‘f’ing’?” He’s amused by my word choice.
“You know…” I imply, lifting my eyebrows.
“No, I don’t.” He’s feigning ignorance. “Do you mean this?” He grabs my rear end and shoves me into his healthy lump.
“Yes,” I sigh. My eyes are closed. He hasn’t stopped rubbing me against him. He’s making me feel something.
“Because I know a woman’s body better than my own. See…” He shifts me against his bulge once and then twice until he shoves me harder, holding me steady. He doesn’t ease the tension. My eyes are closed as the tingling sensation builds. I can feel him studying my expression.
It’s coming…
I’m close…
I’m so damn close…
Then suddenly I explode. I wrap my arms around him, moaning into his neck, which smells so good. Belmont presses his mouth to mine. He greedily lifts the hem of my dress, spreads my legs, and shoves two fingers inside of me.
“Shit,” he mutters as he bites and sucks on my neck. He takes me by the hips and smashes me against his bulge again. I hold tight to him as he shifts me up and down his swollen crotch until he lets out a series of grunts.
When he’s done quivering, he goes completely still, stalling my next climax. “I’m sorry, Daisy.” His warm breath tickles my ear canal. “That one was for me.”
More than likely, I’m influenced by the one and a half orgasms in the kitchen, but I agree to let Belmont call a cab and accompany me on my island expedition. I tell him he’s not allowed to pay or interfere in any way.
After Belmont changed his soiled pants and underwear and talked me into venturing out without panties—since he made mine all wet—we walk up the winding dirt path from his house cut between the forest on our way to State Road. Along the way, he keeps tugging at my skirt, taking me into his arms to steal kisses, and groping the round of my butt. It’s awfully strange how uninhibited he is. He’s like a man with the hormones of a teenage boy. He’s nothing like Adrian, who was always too angry with me for some reason or another to feel me up. Adrian probably should’ve broken up with me seven years ago, the year after I kept getting steady work. But as I stand here on the side of the road pressed up against Belmont, who pulls my hair to the side to nibble on the nape of my neck, which I’ve newly discovered is a hot spot, I can only blame myself for not being the one to break up with Adrian seven years ago–especially if another man can make me feel this way.
“What are you thinking?” Belmont whispers thickly.
“I’m thinking that you must have more hands than an octopus,” I joke.
It works. He chuckles. “Are you complaining?”
I shrug. “No, but… But you’re making me…” I don’t know how to say it out loud. I’m too embarrassed.
“Horny?” He’s grinning mischievously.
“Yeah.” I giggle like a girl with a crush. Actually, he makes me beyond horny.
Belmont is awakening me. I want to be sensual and sexual. I want to ignite his lust.
“I’m not trying to seduce you,” he whispers as his hand snakes up and under my skirt. His fingers draw circles around my “ON” button. “I like to feel you quiver and twist. And those sexy sounds you make…”
“Are you a poet?” I sigh and chuckle.
And then suddenly he stops. I open my eyes in time to see a car speed by. Belmont lifts a hand at the driver, who honks back.
“Daisy,” he says once we’re alone, “I’m not going to touch you first again. You’ll have to be the one to make the next move.” He spins me around and draws my backside into him. I feel his chest rising and falling. “Starting”—he squeezes a handful of one of my breasts and then gently squeezes the nipple—“now.” He’s no longer behind me. He’s beside me, his fingers interlaced in front of him, and smirking.
My body longs for his stimulation, but my mind is happy that it can finally focus. I let him fondle me with impunity, and I forget all the questions I must ask before I can truly trust him. A large part of me is still on guard.
“So it’s Sunday, right?” I ask to get the ball rolling.
“Yep,” he says, unaware of what’s coming next.
“So do you work tomorrow?” I want to figure out what the heck he does on daily basis.
“Do we?” He smiles and does that flirting thing with his eyes.
Oh, he’s smooth.
“Yes. I’m here to work, but what about you? What does a guy who goes to a nursery with a strange list of plants and then is directed to a strange house to buy pot do everyday?”