Freefall (The Indigo Lounge Series, #5) (14 page)

Before I know it, the hour is gone and Jake has left. I slowly open my laptop and stare at the picture of Leo’s bronzed, ripped torso, which is my screensaver. I imagine myself running my hands down his body, licking those flat brown nipples and hearing him moan. In my imagination he encourages me to do more and I go to town, gorging myself on that hot body until we’re both sweating and panting.

I lie back on the grass, my breathing escalating as I imagine what my first real non-masturbation assisted orgasm would feel like. My panties grow wet and I squeeze my thighs together to stop the persistent ache that throbs every time I think of Leo.

Leo will be a gentle lover the first time. After that I might allow things to get a little...risqué. I’m all for experimenting a little. But nothing that involves bondage or gadgets or anything like that.

Ewwww. I grimace just thinking about it. I have no idea why people use those sorts of things. I’ve heard Ashley use a vibrator many nights and the sound alone turns me off.

No, it’ll just be Leo’s mouth, his fingers, his cock.

I blush again just thinking about it and reluctantly rouse myself and sit upright as a group of four seriously good looking guys walk past me and claim their own patch of grass a few yards away.

I pretend not to be interested in them, but my ears perk up when I hear Leo’s name.

“He owns the place?” one asks.

“Who cares? It’s private and it’s ours from Friday to Monday. And for the five large I shelled out, I intend to party fucking hard.”

“Shit, that’s a bit steep just for a weekend, isn’t it?” another complains.

“Not for the special stuff he’s having flown in. You know what Leo’s parties are like.”

I angle my head and catch their knowing smirks as they reminisce in low voices I can’t quite make out, although I hear the words
exclusive
and
supermodels
and my heart sinks a little, but I keep listening.

“How many people are going?”

“At last count, he said thirty. It’s going to be a fucking blow-out, man.” Anticipation oozes from the group and the conversation changes abruptly to how many girls they intend to fuck that weekend.

My mind veers from the lurid exchange back to the never far from my mind, Leo.

So he isn’t just a hot actor with a to-die-for body. He also knows how to throw the party to end all parties. God, he was just perfect.

And he’s not seeing anyone at the moment. I know because I made it my business to subtle-dig during one of our studying sessions and he let slip that he’d been dating his Russian co-star, but had ended it when the movie wrapped.

I suddenly have an idea for how he can pay me for the free tutoring I’ve given him so far. A guy like Leo won’t stay on the market for very long, and this may be my only chance to make my move.

I quickly calculate the weekly five hundred dollars he was paying Tammie and reckon he owes me about three grand. If I agree to throw in the rest of the semester for free, maybe he’ll agree to what I have in mind. My heart beats rapidly as I device a plan to make things swing my way.

In the end, I decide to take the direct route.

My fingers shake as I type the text:

Kelly: Hey, we still on for 8 tonight? I’ll pick up a pack of Red Bull.

They are his favorite and little does he know I keep two cases of the stuff under my dorm bed.

I get a reply in seconds:

Leo: Fuck, yeah. I’ll need at least six fucking cans just to keep awake and focused on this fucked up modul
e.

I grin.

Keely: Dude, you swear way too much
.

Leo: Oh hi there, Miss Pot, I’m Captain Kettle
.

My grin stretches, and I’m sure I look like a cross between a clown and an escaped mental patient.

Keely: Oops!

Leo: No need to oops! I like it. Don’t ever change, Benson.

My heart strings flutter like mad and everything inside me melts. I can barely type the question I’d intended to ask him all along.

Taking a shaky breath, I force my fingers to work.

Keely: Hey, you know when I said we can discuss payment for my tutoring later?

Leo: Uh...yeah?

Keely: How about an invite to your party this weekend?

I consciously stop myself from adding -
as your date
and press send. If everything goes well, Leo Brummer will be the first notch on my bedpost come Monday. I just to need to not blow it now.

My heart lurches as I wait, my gaze on the time displayed on the texts. One minute. Two.

Shit. Fuck. Have I alerted him to my pathetic feelings? My body goes from happy and relaxed to frozen and tense in seconds. I shut my eyes in mortification, then hear a ping of another text. I’m almost too scared to look down, but I do.

I read his text and my heart bursts with celestial joy.

Leo: Sure. Remind me tonight to organize a car service to pick you up on Friday. Catchya later!

I type—
Awesome
—and immediately delete it. Only lame people say that these days. I think of a something cool but classy to say. I remember a British detective show I’d seen a while back, with a cute lead and I let my fingers to go work.

Keely: Jolly good!

He might think it strange. Or he might smile. Either way, I’m going to Leo Brummer’s party, where I have every intention of fulfilling my wildest fantasy of making him my first lover.

As I sit in the Californian sunshine, happy as a clam in love, little do I know that come Monday I will wake up in hospital, battered, bruised, and with no recollection of who I am, or that I’ll be carrying a secret shame that will change my life forever.

mason

I
wait for her in the shadows, parked across from her hotel in a spot where the glitzy lights don’t reach. I grimly count the seconds till she walks through the double doors.

The past twenty-four hours have been hell, knowing that she has a hold on me I can’t shake very easily. Knowing the more I let that connection remain, the more inclined I’ll be to punish her for it. Not that she isn’t getting punished anyway. It’s why I deliberately stayed away from the yacht today. I don’t think I can stand to be in the same space as her without throwing her over my shoulder or preferably onto the floor and fucking the shit out of her.

That’s how bad she’s got me.

My hands shake and my cock throbs as I watch the door. I arrived early because I couldn’t abide my own company for another second. I’ve never done well with inactivity. Idle hands bring too many temptations, too many chances to be pulled back into the razor-sharp jaws of the past.

Of what I’d lost. Of the spiral of hell that became my life in the months after losing Toby.

His name shudders down my spine and I grit my teeth as pain rattles long and hard through my rigid bones. I don’t fight the pain. I welcome it. It’s a part of my life I never intend to let go. Letting go means forgetting. And I’ll never forget what I did.

Never forget.

Never forgive.

I sit through another half a dozen shudders and try to pull myself together. Being this close to the edge isn’t a great idea.

Keely Benson is a sexy contradiction that intrigues and infuriates me. But she also needs handling with care, and it won’t do to scare her away before I get the chance to have my way with her. I can’t afford to let her see me like this. Not yet, anyway.

Despite her agreeing to give herself to me, part of her remains wary. And while a part of me thinks her prudent for that wariness, I’m unwilling to let it stand in the way of what I want.

I switch gears and wonder if she’ll turn up dressed the way I asked. I mull over the various ways I’ll punish her if she doesn’t. My dick jerks and my fist unclenches to cup the bulge in my pants. I breathe deep and allow anticipation to wash over me.

She emerges from the hotel at that moment and pauses on the sidewalk.

Pleasure flickers into a flame when I see she’s obeyed my instructions.

Her head swings back and forth over the row of sports cars arriving at the hotel. It’s a busy Friday evening in Monaco particularly around the streets near the Casino Square.

I watch her for another minute before I gun the powerful engine of the Ducatti and exit the side street. The throaty engine draws her attention, and her gaze stays on me as I roll up to a stop beside her.

She takes in the black, powerful bike. “Okay, I get the request for pants and the hair now,” she says.

My gaze travels over the hair she’s tied back into a long silky rope as per my instructions, the cream top and jacket the black pants and knee-high boots that make her legs look fucking amazing.

“You think it was a request?”

“I sure as hell hope so. I don’t respond well to commands,” she snaps.

She’s obviously still testy so I decide not to respond. Instead, I cup her nape and pull her close. She stumbles into me, and I steady her with one hand over her stomach as I tug her down and take her mouth in a kiss that’s all about easing the flaying hunger I’ve suffered since I set eyes on her.

She tenses for a moment before her mouth softens beneath mine. I go in hard and ruthless, my tongue breaching and surging past her lips to tangle with hers. A gasp, which doesn’t quite make it past our meshed lips, lifts her slender torso, and my fingers curl into her waist, imprisoning her so I can satisfy even a little of that pounding need.

Her hands slide over my shoulders, and I push into my hair. I tense at the strange feeling. I haven’t allowed a woman to touch me like this without my permission in a long time. Years in fact.

Not since Cassie and I were together. Not since Toby was alive.

By the time I get round to fucking a woman, she’s more often than not bound, or ready to submit to my commands on how she can touch me.

Keely Benson has already taken far too many liberties. The thought freezes me from the inside, and I tense harder.

Keely lifts her head. “What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” I reply roughly, and struggle to get a hold of myself.

“I’m not an idiot, Mason. Something spooked you just now.” Her forehead creases and a tinge of self-awareness creeps into her eyes. “Was it me?”

“You?”

“If you don’t like the way I kiss, just say so.”

My gaze drops to her wet, slightly swollen mouth, and my cock swells and thickens, desperate for the action I’ve denied it for several long months. “I like the way you kiss. I very much want you to do it again. Right now.”

Her pupils dilate, and I increase the pressure at her nape with the request, not really giving her a choice in the matter. A second before our lips meet, a Ferrari roars past, and she jerks back.

“Shit, I don’t mind PDAs, but do we have somewhere to be? Like a reservation or something?”

“No,” I growl, my eyes on the mouth she’s keeping from me.

“Oh, so you’re not planning on feeding me tonight?”

“Oh, you’ll be fed, kitten. Just probably not in the way you expect.”

Her fingers, still tangled in my hair, tighten and another cold wash of reality bathes me. I grasp her hands and pull them down to her sides. Reaching into the compartment in front of me, I pull out a helmet. “Put this on and get on the bike.”

She hesitates, like the wants to argue, but then slides the helmet on. Her small, long-stringed purse goes cross-bodied over her shoulder and she swings her leg over the seat. I wait till she’s fully in place and gun the engine.

“You ready?” I ask, my head turned so I can see her face.

“Yes.”

“Hold on.”

She nods and shifts closer. Her crotch nudges my ass. I suppress a growl and barely wait for her arms to slide around my waist before I kick the stand and dart into the slow-moving traffic.

Her hold tightens, and she leans closer against my back. My muscles flex in reaction to the touch of her firm breasts, and I breathe through my mouth, while debating the wisdom of picking her by bike instead of using the car, despite the Ducatti getting us to my place quicker.

We bypass the posh restaurants and bars around Casino Square and head east. Every now and then I tilt the bike to take a fast corner, and I feel her breath on my neck before the wind whips it away. I take a particularly sharp corner and her nails claw into my skin as she grips a handful of my shirt. My jaws clenches and I fight the urge to stop the bike, spread her naked on top of it and fuck her raw for making me hurt this bad.

But I don’t stop. Because then she might bolt.

Five minutes later, I pull up in front of tall wrought iron gates and input the security code. I sense her surprise, but don’t give her a chance to question where I’ve brought her before gunning the bike through the barely adequate gap.

I skid to a stop at the end of the sweeping driveway and dismount. A glance shows her mouth gaping as she stares at the house. “Who lives here?”

“I do.”

Her astonished gaze swings to me and she stares at me for a second before her attention switches back to the house. “Okay, for my own piece of mind, I need to ask. Are you married?”

My wince is barely controlled, and I only just manage to stop my fist from balling. “Why do you need to know?” I ask calmly, keeping the punishing, volatile sickness in my soul from showing.

Her eyes widen as her gaze connects with mine. “You needing to ask me that seriously disturbs me. Do I come across like some bitch home-wrecker to you? Or do I seem like the kind of woman who just loves being the piece you screw on the side to piss off your wife, or whatever reason you rich people use to get your rocks off?”

Despite the feelings roiling through my belly, my mouth twitches. “No, your request for exclusivity suggests you’re not either of those things.”

That seems to appease her. “Then answer the question.”

“I’m not married. Not anymore.”

I curse silently for the unnecessary additional info, but it’s too late. Her eyes glow with interest. Interest, which I ignore by turning and stalking to the door. I know the exact moment she dismounts and follows, and relief pours through me.