Chapter 7

Coulter

I felt excitement in my gut at the idea of having Gwen all to myself for at least a couple of hours. Every conversation we had was stimulating—she presented a challenge to me. She reminded me of a doe; dewy-eyed innocence coupled with a quivering defense that promised she would bolt at the first inclination. There was something about her that made me want to protect her, to shield her from whatever it was that had her so frightened. I knew she was hiding something; she had to be. Only people with secrets didn’t want to talk about their past. What could be so horrendous in her short life?

I took her to Barney’s—a restaurant and bar known among people with money who wanted excellent food and even greater discretion. We were both a little under-dressed, but I was well-known there, and they’d never risk my future business or referrals by turning me down at the door. Or so I hoped.

The maître d’ recognized me and came around from his podium to speak to me privately. “Sir, as you know there is a jacket policy. I will be happy to show you and your guest to one of our private alcoves if you wouldn’t mind wearing a jacket on loan as you pass through the dining room?”

I nodded and smiled, marveling at how they handled such old-fashioned policies. It was how old money behaved; clinging with their last dollars’ worth of grip to a time that was more traditional and held in check by social rules than the present. He promptly removed a jacket from the coat rack, holding it up so that I might slide it on. He looked briefly at Gwen but decided he had pushed it enough. “If you’ll follow me?” he asked and took us to one of the single table, private dining alcoves at the far end of the restaurant. These could only be offered, they could not be requested. We both stood aside as Gwen entered and stood next to the table, a question in her eyes. I quickly slid off the jacket and threw it over the back of an extra chair, circling around to pull her chair out for.

“I think I’m a little underdressed,” she commented.

“You weren’t planning on coming here, obviously, but it’s okay. They know me here.”

“So, I figured out.”

The maître d’ fussed around us, opening the door to admit a waiter with a bucket of champagne and two crystal flutes. He handed us menus, but Gwen shook her head. “You order for me.”

“No problem.” I knew what was bothering her; the menu was in French and had no prices. I didn’t want her to be embarrassed. “Thank you for letting me,” I said, patting the back of her hand. “I have some favorites here and I’d like to introduce you to them.”

Finally, we were alone and the candle on the table between us flickered invitingly. I would have preferred her at my condo where we were truly alone. “Can I ask you something?”

She nodded. “Yes…”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’ll understand.”

“Go ahead.”

“I get the feeling that you’re hiding some kind of secret.”

Her head snapped up and I was drawn to the long, lovely line of her throat. I could almost taste that sweet flesh and the heat in my groin echoed the desire. “What makes you say that?” There was alarm in her eyes, which only convinced me I was on the right track.

I reached across the table, running my index finger across the back of her hand. She jumped, and I caught her before she pulled it back. I moved the finger, stroking the inside of her palm. “You know… there is some truth to the saying that trusting someone is the greatest gift you can give them.”

She didn’t say a word, another clue that she was hiding something and not willing to divulge it. I decided to give up on it for the time being. I wanted her to trust me.

“So, tell me about your work,” she prodded, changing the subject.

“Not as exciting as you might think. Just a bunch of concrete, steel, and glass.” I didn’t like to talk about my company—it had long before lost its appeal and challenge. I would have liked to have sold out the whole thing, but until I found something I liked better, it kept me busy.

Food and drink were ferried to and from the room and I could tell that Gwen was beginning to loosen up. I made a few corny jokes and she laughed as though I was the most brilliant comedian she’d ever heard. I shared some stories from when I was young and in boarding school. She listened, wide-eyed and never interrupted. Her silence became conspicuous. “Sorry, I’m boring you,” I said, pushing my chair back and relaxing with a goblet of after dinner wine.

Her head shook before she found her voice. It was sleepy, and she slurred a bit—not in a sloppy way, but in the most cuddly, endearing way. “You’re not boring, not even a little,” she purred. “It’s just that I’ve never known anyone like you.”

“Not like me in what way?”

She pulled back her head like a chicken getting ready to cluck and I could tell that she was wobbly. “Let’s just say people like you didn’t grow up down the street from me. You had, well… you had everything.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that simple. Sure, we didn’t worry about the electric bill, but my parents still fought, and I was shy in school. I caught the flu, skinned my knees, and my dad made me work for my spending money. It wasn’t all that different,” I told her.

She was already shaking her head again. “It might look like that from your side, but not from mine. You haven’t walked in my shoes.” She snapped upright then as if she’d said too much. I read it in her eyes. Then, at least I knew the source of whatever she was hiding.

I texted my driver and stood up, pulling on the jacket before I circled the table and helped her stand up. Her legs were wobbly and she leaned into me. Her body felt so good against mine. We walked slowly through the dining room and I slid off the jacket and laid it on the podium as we went out the door and into the limo.

Gwen was soft and warm against me on the car’s seat. Her breath was slightly fruity from the wine and her hair shone in the streetlights as we sped beneath them. She didn’t ask where we were going, and I didn’t bring it up. It would make sense that I’d take her back to the building where both Buddy and I lived.

We pulled up to the revolving door and the granite building was iconic against the skyline. I had to admit it was impressive and that was one of the reasons I’d chosen to move there. When I moved in, Buddy got a bad case of one-upmanship and bought a condo as well, although on a higher floor. He could keep the height.

Gwen was silent as I unlocked my door and a motion detector triggered a few ceiling canisters dimmed low. The liquor had really gotten to her and I realized she probably wasn’t used to drinking. I wouldn’t take advantage of her, but oh, God, how easy it would have been.

She stumbled, and I caught her, scooping her into my arms as I carried her back to the guest room next to the master. She was sleepy and didn’t offer an argument. I managed to pull back the coverlet and lay her on the bed before removing her shoes and lifting her legs to the mattress. A shaft of moonlight fell over her in the darkened room, making her features soft and mysterious. She was watching me, and I knew instinctively that I was being judged. This was where the trust would be built.

I sat on the edge of the mattress, lifting a strand of her long hair and letting it cascade through my fingers. “You going to be okay? There’s a bath right there at the foot of the bed if you feel sick or anything. Want me to get you a washcloth?”

“No, I’m okay,” she whispered, her huge eyes searching my face warily. “Where are you going to sleep?”

I jerked my head in the direction of the master. “Just on the other side of that wall is my room. I’ll leave the door open in case you need something. Hey, let me grab a shirt or something you can sleep in,” I told her and got up. When I came back, I held out a navy t-shirt I wore around the house. It had been washed enough times that it was soft and although she might drown in it, at least she could move better than that tight skirt she was wearing. “Can you change yourself?”

Gwen’s eyes grew huge and she nodded, holding up her hand to brush me away. “I’m okay,” she mumbled sleepily again, and I bent over and kissed her cheek, just as if she was a young child being tucked into bed. She looked very innocent just then and my body was reacting. I needed to leave.

“Okay, well, goodnight then,” I whispered and got up, giving her one last look before I left the room. “Remember, I’m right next door. Just call out if you need something.”

It felt like trying to pull away from a magnet. I forced myself to go into my room and turn on the nightstand lamp. I took a quick, coolish shower to diminish the throbbing need she instilled in me and pulled back the crisp sheets to climb beneath. A housekeeper came every day to clean and prepare my meals. She was meticulous in her cleanliness and the sheets were changed daily. They were crisp and felt good against my bare skin. I kept trying to keep myself in the moment. When I let myself become distracted, all I could think of was Gwen lying on the other side of the wall alone, and how vulnerable she’d looked. I knew I wouldn’t get much sleep and turned on the nightstand Echo and let it play the sound of distant thunderstorms. I found it soothing, but still, it spoke to the primitive inside me and with each roll of thunder, I could feel my need for Gwen growing.

My back was to the door when I felt a subtle movement of the bed. A waft of cool air swept over my legs as Gwen’s body slid beneath the covers. She scooted toward me and I felt the soft cotton of the t-shirt against my back. “Would you mind terribly if I slept in here with you? I know it’s silly, but I get a little spooked when I’m in strange places.”

I rolled over and slid my arm beneath her. “Sure, you can. I get a little spooked myself sometimes when I’m traveling and in a strange hotel,” I murmured as I pulled her against me and she curled like a young girl to conform to the shape of my hip. But there was nothing but woman beneath that cotton shirt. I began to stroke her upper arm and with every pass of my hand I could feel the muscles beneath her skin relax and conform to me. “Gwen, answer something for me?” I asked softly.

“Hmm…?” she responded in a voice as thick as honey.

“Who am I and where are we?”

I heard her breath pause momentarily before she answered. “Colt Stillman and I’m pretty sure this is where you live.”

“Good girl,” I exhaled as I rolled onto my hip and pulled her to face me. Her face turned upward, and I met her lips with a hard kiss; it was filled with the residue of frustration and need for the woman in my arms. Her lips answered mine, parting so I could taste her tongue and the sweet moisture of her inside cheek. Then began the give and take of lovers—the quest from one followed by the answer of the other. Gwen was tentative and tender. I recognized immediately she’d had few lovers in her life. I suspected one had hurt her and that was what she could not, or would not, share. I swore I would drive his memory from her. Whatever he’d done had left pain and I would take it away and replace it with the tenderness and protection a woman like her deserved to feel from a man.

Even that aside—I wanted her. I wanted her more than any woman I’d ever known. She wasn’t just a body; she was a simple and yet intensively complicated vessel holding all a man could ever need or want. She was meant for me. She just didn’t know it yet because she was too scared to open herself. I would change all that.

Kissing her, I moved my fingertips to her nipples, taking each in turn and rubbing them gently in circular motions through the fabric. They responded to my touch, becoming erect and I felt the breath in her throat quicken. With one, smooth motion, I pulled the shirt over her head, pulling her nipples into my mouth. Gwen began squirming, her hips driving into the mattress as her body arched, lifting her breasts against my face. I fed upon her and then loosed one hand to push her panties down the long extension of her legs. She opened herself to my touch and as I suckled, I pressed against her woman’s grotto with my finger.

Her reaction was organic and naturally female. She pumped her hips, trying to seat my finger more deeply. I was gentle but decided as I rose above her and entered her. Gwen bucked upward and with a steady, but firm movement, I pushed her back down against the bed. Slowly and with caution I penetrated her depth and then slid out, giving her a split second’s respite before I moved into her once again. Over and over we repeated the dance of mankind, growing in intensity until we crested the peak and the shudders washed over us.

As thoughts cleared, I clutched her against me, my hand cupping that which I’d just breached—she belonged to me then and I would protect her from that moment on.