“Some pair we are. Do you think phone sex involves rubbing your cell between your
legs?”
She laughed and sagged into her pillows. Her tablet fell to her side. “Since I tend
to get pretty excited, I can’t take that chance. Waterproof cases don’t always work.”
He groaned. “Stop.”
“Though my fingers are fine in liquid,” she continued, walking them down her midriff.
“Good thing, too, since I think they’d need to be right now.”
“Stop trying to tempt me. I’m not going to have phone sex with you.”
“Okay,” she replied cheerfully. “I’ll just get out my vibrator.”
“You have a vibrator?” He sounded entirely too interested.
“No. But isn’t that what women always say in romantic comedies?”
His velvety laughter was a balm to her soul. “My tongue would happily volunteer for
that service.”
“You know where I live, CEO. I’ll put my light on for you.”
He released a frustrated sigh. “We have a photo shoot in less than six hours, and
I have two meetings before that.”
She slid her hand lower. “So let’s pretend. We’re both experts at that, aren’t we?”
She clucked her tongue. “Unless you’re too chicken.”
“God, I hate you sometimes.”
She giggled. “Ditto. So when’s the last time you jerked off?”
“Do you really expect me to answer that?”
“Yes. Call me curious.”
He didn’t answer right away. “Last week,” he muttered. “You?”
“This morning in the shower. Then twice in my bed. The third one was kind of weak.”
Her face felt as hot as if she had a fever.
“No wonder. Your fingers had to be sore by then. Why didn’t you call me?”
“You were at work.”
“So? I have priorities. And you with your hand between your legs sounds like an emergency
to me.”
“How about in the middle of the night when I have my hand there?” she murmured, tracing
the lips of her sex. They were already damp.
“Are you really…” He trailed off, sounding strangled.
“Yes. I really am. Your voice turns me on.”
“Jesus. Vic, I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
She closed her eyes and waited for him to continue, knowing he’d never let her remain
unfulfilled. Even if he only had words at his disposal to get her off. “Yes, you can.
You’re excited by it.”
He didn’t deny her claim. “Are you wet for me?”
“Aren’t I always? And my clit’s swollen. It won’t take me long to come for you.” She
rolled on her belly and rose on her knees. “Especially now. I’m on my stomach. Easiest
way for me to come. If I just slide my fingers inside…”
“Do it.” His authoritative tone rang through the line, surprising her with its certainty.
She should’ve known he’d catch on quick. “Tell me how it feels.”
“You know how it feels inside me. Or have you forgotten already?”
“No.” He growled and her clit pulsed as if he were right beside her. “I’ll never forget
how hot your sweet pussy is. You wrap so tight around me that I can’t get deep enough.
I could go forever inside you and I’d still ache for more.”
Trembling, she buried her forehead in her pillow and ground herself against her palm.
He
never
talked dirty. She slid her fingers in and out, desperate to keep the friction going,
but she couldn’t speak. All she could do was breathe choppily into the phone and hope
he understood how much he affected her.
“Baby?”
Hearing “pussy” from his mouth was more natural than a genuine endearment of any kind.
He was about to officially kill her. “I’m here, and I’m keeping busy. What about you?”
“Working on it,” he said in a low voice. “Hard when you’re not talking to me, just
sort of panting and making
unh
noises.”
“Speaking of hard, what are you doing? Exactly.”
“Stroking myself, fast. Pretending it’s your hand in my parents’ bathroom. Imagining
you’re behind me, whispering in my ear. I can smell you, your soap and your perfume.
It reminds me of being outside, in the barn. The smells of hay, earth, and fresh,
clean air. Everything so sharp and crisp. That scent’s inside me even when you’re
not around. If I breathe in right now, you’re there. Always.”
She bit her lip but it wasn’t enough to quiet her moan. “My thumb’s on my clit, my
fingers inside. But it’s your hand. You should be quieting me when I cry out, not
this pillow. When I bite it, it’s your shoulder I’m sinking my mouth into. Your back
I’m raking my nails down.”
“Harder. Deeper. Take me with you.” He sounded guttural. Urgent. “Make me believe
you’re in this bed with me, that neither one of us is alone tonight.”
Vicky complied, flexing her hand as she drove into herself again and again. Her climax
hit her so rapidly that she couldn’t warn him, couldn’t even tell him it was happening.
All she could do was gasp his name and jerk her fingers in and out while her moisture
soaked her fingers.
She’d just slumped into her pillow when he made his own choked sounds of release.
She shuddered as if they were her own, absorbing them with a kind of dizzy elation
that sent aftershocks spinning through her once again.
His unsteady breaths lulled her into oblivion. Words seemed superfluous. He must’ve
agreed, because he didn’t speak either.
Together they could just…be.
A long time later, she whispered, “I think I can sleep now.”
He didn’t answer for so long that she wondered if he was still there. “Me too.”
“Good night, Cory.”
“Good night, Vic.”
…
He’d lied again.
Predawn found Cory at his balcony railing, searching for Orion’s Belt as he’d done
way too often lately. It was early in the season for it to be visible, but his high-powered
telescope helped. He usually left the telescope in the closet in favor of his binoculars
but the clarity of the view this morning had made him bring out the big guns. Sirius
winked away madly in the lightening sky, and he foolishly wished on it as he always
did. But what he wished for had changed.
She’d done something to him. Maybe a curse, maybe a spell. It had been a long time
since he’d had a crush or anything close to it. Infatuation could confuse a lot of
things—
No
. He wasn’t going to pretend. What he was suffering from went a lot deeper than infatuation
or desire. He just didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it.
Some men approached their personal lives with the same focus and zeal they used for
business. Not him. He’d had his share of girlfriends over the years, and occasionally
he’d considered taking things to the next level. Invariably he’d found some minute
flaw in the woman to dissect—or she’d found a not-so-minute flaw in him—that had made
the relationship quickly turn sour.
He’d nearly done that here, almost unintentionally. Victoria’s reaction Sunday night
to his unavoidable “we’re madly in love” declaration had started the process. God,
the wounded look in her whiskey eyes had slayed him. Followed by her booting him out
of her town house when he’d been certain she was as eager to have him in her bed as
he’d been to get there, then her seeming disinterest in going to the get-together
with him, and he’d gone into survival lockdown mode. So much of this whole crazy thing
was his fault, but if she was already pulling away, he needed to, as well. It was
only prudent.
The only problem with that scenario was that he’d begun to think about the future.
He’d started looking down the road of his life and saw only the same view, day in
and day out. He loved his work, there was no doubt about it. But there was more to
life, and he wasn’t as willing to shut himself off as he’d been only a few weeks ago.
Spell, curse, miracle. Perhaps she was all three.
The only solution was to be honest with her. She was still keeping secrets about her
personal life, he could tell, but it stood to reason that if he offered more of himself—if
he figured out how—she would probably feel more comfortable with him. He wanted to
be her friend. He definitely wanted to be her lover. The way she’d given herself in
the barn had irrevocably sealed that decision. She fit him so well in so many ways,
though even their jagged edges created sparks. Maybe he even wanted to be…more.
That
more
was scaring the holy fucking hell out of him.
He pushed aside his telescope and viewed the milky sky with his naked eye. Sunrise
was always a beautiful thing to behold, even when his shoulders were stiff with tension
and his eyes sore from lack of sleep. This time of year was especially beautiful,
with the leaves turning in the trees on the hillside that surrounded the city. The
sun’s rays cast the town in a pink-and-orange hue and the crisp morning breeze carried
the scents of woodsmoke and fall.
It was the perfect morning to share with someone. With Victoria. If he turned his
head, he could smell her hair, feel the way her fingers curled into his chest. If
he concentrated, he could visualize the humor and the longing in her pale-brown eyes,
burning just for him. Mixed in with both, her utter understanding of who he was at
the molecular level. They’d known each other so long that even this giant change in
their relationship only felt like a whole new level to their banter.
Yet he was alone, as always.
The irony of Victoria was that he hadn’t realized what he was lacking until she’d
shot through the center of his life like a tornado. Imagining her not part of it in
the same way anymore after his parents left town in a little over a week made him
want to pound his fists into something hard and sharp.
He couldn’t let it happen.
Glancing at his watch, he exhaled and pushed away from the rail. He had to get ready
for the day.
And to take the next step.
Chapter Eleven
He was officially swimming in deep shit.
Seeing her at the photo shoot that morning made him feel like a high school kid. He
brought her a cup of cocoa and watched her eyes light up as she drank it. Then she
got to work with Jill and Lorelie on staging the living room for the cover, and he
just stood there like a lovesick moron.
She was beautiful, yes. Sexy, undoubtedly. But those weren’t the main attributes that
drew him to her. Her brain, her wit, her heart—those were what tied him up in knots.
They were what made him wish he believed in forever, or had one iota of a clue how
to give it to someone.
When he finally screwed his head on straight enough to watch the shoot, he realized
he needn’t have bothered. As usual, she’d knocked it out of the park.
The living room had been transformed into a Christmas fantasy. A large, real tree
decorated with multicolored lights and vintage ornaments stood in one corner. The
large brick-faced fireplace burned and the quaint rocker beside the couch was draped
in a Santa throw. Little touches around the room emphasized the feel of an old-fashioned
holiday, right down to the bowl of ribbon candy beside a long, low sofa made for afternoon
naps in front of the TV.
The photographer called instructions to Victoria and her team between takes, but he
didn’t ask for much. Everything was pretty much perfect.
Except one thing.
“Hold on,” Cory said near the end of the shoot, when the photographer was about to
zero in on an Americana-style teddy bear dressed like an elf. Three sets of faces
turned his way. “These shots need something else.”
Victoria crossed her arms over her chest. “Like what?”
He smiled. “You.”
“Huh?”
Her puzzlement made his smile widen. “Come sit here.” He walked behind the couch and
patted the spot beside the bear. “Let the camera eat you up.” When she sat, he leaned
down and whispered in her ear. “Before I do the same later.”
She blushed and his cock went from half-mast to
hell yeah, who needs Viagra
.
“You were adamant about just using location pictures. You said you wanted people to
imagine themselves in the pictures, with no models to distract them.”
“You’re the only person who’ll be in them. They needed a little extra oomph.” As she
bristled, he kissed her temple. “They needed you.”
Cory motioned to the photographer and stepped out of the shot.
After a few stumbles, she settled into her role. With the teddy bear tucked into her
side, she posed, glittering just as brightly as the oversize snow globe on the end
table beside the couch. And every now and then, Victoria winked at Cory, as if they
were sharing a private joke.
Pride swelled in his chest. She was so incredibly talented, and as unique as the leaves
starting to scatter outside the window behind her.
He wanted her, body, heart, and soul. Perhaps even for…life.
Was that crazy, considering they’d only been involved for a few weeks? The years before
had been a sort of prelude, if one filled with potential violence on her end and perpetual
annoyance on his counted as such. Still, they’d built a foundation. He had no doubt
that she would challenge him every day for the rest of his existence. She would make
him laugh, and turn him on, and make him dream about something beyond letters and
numbers on a page. Having her in his life would make every bit of it worthwhile.
If he was canny enough, perhaps he could even persuade her it was all her idea. He
could only imagine her reaction if he posed the question: “Hey, want to consider us
making this fake love thing real?”
If she got there on her own, she’d focus on getting him to see things her way.
He had a feeling he’d enjoy that.
At the end of the shoot, they went to an early lunch at the Chinese place near Value
Hardware. He asked if she wanted to attend another event on Sunday and this time,
there was no hesitation. She said yes right away.
So far, so good.
They held hands all the way back. Not by agreement, just a sort of fumbling finger
bump that ended with him grabbing hold and her smiling instead of elbowing him away.
It was relaxed and easy, as natural as turning to her in the middle of the sidewalk
and kissing the strawberry lip gloss off her mouth. She tasted like bubble gum and
peach iced tea and he caught himself rubbing his lips together all afternoon just
to see if any of her flavor remained.
That night, she called before bed to say good night. After a full day of work on Saturday,
he called her to do the same. Without saying it aloud, he knew they were both anticipating
Sunday night’s party—and what would come after.
He wasn’t a romantic, and he didn’t believe in fairy tales. That was her department.
But when she opened her door to him Sunday night with her golden hair coiled atop
her head and her toned body draped in a column of black silk that fell from throat
to toes—save the slit that stopped damn close to her rib cage—he fell hard. She wore
diamond earrings and a tiny diamond stud in her nose, and neither sparkled brighter
than she did. Somehow she’d bewitched him, and he didn’t want the spell to ever fade.
“You look like an angel,” he murmured.
She turned and showed him the lace-up back. So many laces. She grinned over her shoulder,
though her eyes were too dark, the shadows beneath them too heavy. “A wicked angel.”
Frowning, he stepped forward. Something was wrong. “What’s the matter?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t lie to me. I know you better than that.” He stroked her cheek and his heart
turned over as she pressed her face into his palm. “What is it?”
“We’re going to be late.”
“I don’t care.” He took off his coat and set it aside to prove how serious he was.
“Talk to me.”
She shook her head so hard he worried she’d dislodge something. “I can’t do it.”
“You can. It’s just me, Vic.”
Then she was in his arms, and hell if he knew how she’d gotten there. But God, it
felt good. Right.
So fucking right.
It was only when she eased back that he realized she was crying. “I’m sorry. We don’t
have…
this
.” She waved between them while he shut the door. “You’re not my boyfriend. Not my
any—”
He gathered her up and carried her into the living room, then settled her on his lap.
“Shh. Stop.”
“Look at you carrying me. All romance hero-y.”
Her sniffle cut off his laugh. “Just call me Swashbuckling Manflesh and be done with
it.”
“What is it with you and pirates?”
“After that castrating statement, I am now behooved to say something dickish to get
back my romance hero cred. I hereby demand you get on your knees and suck me off.”
He nudged her shoulder. “Now, wench.”
She peeked up at him from under tear-starred lashes. “Can I give you an IOU?”
He ran a fingertip down her nose. “I’ll collect.”
“Good.”
She gave a watery laugh and tucked her wet face into his throat. “I’m sorry. I know
we should get going, but…I need you tonight.”
He half expected a choking sensation to seize his throat at the mere implication of
her needing him for more than sex. Instead, contentment washed over him as surely
as her soft body draping over his.
He took a steadying breath and forced the words out. “I need you, too.”
They sat for a long time in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Holding her like this
felt as natural as breathing. He only wondered why he hadn’t made a move on her before,
back before they’d had the drama of a fake relationship and too many lies between
them.
Oh yeah, because they were complete polar opposites—who somehow found a way to meet
in the middle when it mattered most.
“I went to see my mother today,” she finally said.
He remembered Victoria had said she’d seen her mother after she’d left the family,
but he didn’t know how often. “She’s nearby?”
“Yes. She’s in Rillings.”
Rillings. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “Okay.” She
trembled and he drew her closer, willing some of his warmth to transfer to her. Times
like this, he realized how delicate she was.
She lifted her gaze to his. “It’s a group facility for people with mental problems.”
And then she reminded him of her strength. More than he’d ever guessed.
“She’s got severe bipolar disorder and suicidal tendencies, among other issues. When
she’s not in a phase, she’s fine. The life of every party, the center of every crowd.
But when she crashes…” She shut her eyes. “It’s a chemical imbalance, often inherited.”
She conveyed her fear about that with merely a long, steady glance. “Have you been
evaluated?”
“I’ve talked to a psychologist. He thinks I’m stable enough.” She laughed weakly.
“She’d been fine for years and she thought she was ‘cured.’ Then after she left us,
everything started piling up. She couldn’t find steady work, and she felt guilty—”
“As she should have,” he interjected, his hold on her tightening. “She abandoned her
goddamn family.”
He knew all too well what it felt like to be left behind, and he’d had people to fill
the void. From the sounds of things, she hadn’t. Not nearly enough.
“She knows she made mistakes,” she whispered, looking down as if those mistakes were
somehow hers. As if they were her fault.
“Melinda and Bryan aren’t bipolar, are they?”
“They haven’t been evaluated. They don’t even know she is.”
“Do they know you see her?”
Again she shook her head. “No one knows, except you.”
He ran his fingertips down the side of her face, lifting it gently. “How long, Vic?
How long have you been shouldering this alone?”
“For years,” she said, and he had to shut his eyes at the pain in her voice. God.
What she’d gone through, all on her own. And he’d been griping at her about window
treatments and magazine layouts while she’d been trying so hard to take care of the
people she cared about. Her mother, Bryan, Melly, Jill.
Even him. Why else had she agreed to be his fake girlfriend when he knew down to the
ground that it went against everything she stood for? She’d had her own reputation
to think about after the gazebo incident, but that had been a relatively small concern.
Talk would die down. But she’d wanted to help him. Lord knows why.
He wanted to beg her to give them a chance. A real one. He didn’t have the first idea
how to make a relationship work, but maybe she could give him time to learn.
So many maybes. With every risk grew the likelihood of failure. And he didn’t fail.
Ever.
She swiped moisture off her chin. “It hasn’t all been bad. She gets better, and those
times are really good.”
“But it’s bad now,” he said gently, wiping away her fresh flood of tears. Each one
twisted his stomach.
“Yes.” She rested her head on his shoulder and let out a shuddery breath. “I didn’t
hear from her until several years ago. It was only when she went in the hospital the
first time that she wrote to me as part of her therapy. She called the same day I
received the letter. I was the closest one to her, her baby, and she told me she’d
always loved me best. It sounds horrible, but God, I needed to hear that. Bryan and
Melly got everyone else’s attention, and I wanted her all to myself. I’d missed her
so much.”
“She manipulated you, because she knew you had a soft heart.” Though he’d done the
same damn thing, so how was he any better?
“No, it’s not all on her. It’s my fault it’s gone on this long. I tried to tell Bry
once, and he just shut me down. He’s had so many issues himself with his injury and
God knows Mom’s not the way he remembers her. I didn’t want to add this to all he’s
dealing with already. So when he asked me not to talk about her, I gave in. Same thing
with Melly. They both think I just want to drive down memory lane and I didn’t push
hard enough. I should’ve made them listen to me.”
“How do you make someone listen if they don’t want to?”
She had no answer for that, just a soft sniffle that clenched his gut. “I visited
her in secret all these years, hoping she’d get better for good. And then she’d come
home and I would be the hero, because I reunited our family.” She laughed harshly
and stabbed her fingers against her eyes. “But she hasn’t, and now she has no one
else but me, and there’s nothing left inside me for her. I turned my back on my own
father when he was struggling because she convinced me he’d driven her away, when
all along I knew it was her illness talking. Now I’m the guilty one, because I need
a break.”
“And that makes you feel guilty because you think you’re like her. That you could
leave someone you love. But you’re not.” He gripped her chin so she had no choice
but to look at him. “I know you like I know myself and you’ll never be that cruel
or selfish. You don’t have it in you, Vic. You’re the best person I’ve ever known.”
She huddled against him as if she wanted to crawl inside his skin. “I like when you
call me Vic.”
“Vic,” he breathed, pressing his lips to each damp cheek. “Vic.” Her forehead. Each
closed eye. “Vic.” Her chin. And finally her mouth, salty with her tears.
She swallowed, her amber eyes as bright as the tears that gathered beneath them. “Will
you stay? I want a night where it’s just us.”
He wanted many more nights like that, and time was running short. His parents’ going-away
party was next weekend at the same place they’d held the Value Hardware gala three-plus
weeks ago. If he didn’t work fast, their fake relationship would dissolve for real.
“I think that can be arranged.” Forcing his dark thoughts away, he grinned and rubbed
his palm over her hip. “Prepare yourself, little lady. I’m about to do one of those
romance moves again.”
“Wait.” She pressed her hand to his cheek, drawing his eyes to hers. “You told me
there were things you want to do to me.”