Chapter 43
He’d wanted to kill him. Gideon Fucking Shoemoney. One of Wall Street’s finest. He and his wife were the wealthy A-list power couple at all the New York society galas.
He couldn’t sleep after what Izzy had told him. Not just because of what she had suffered, but because he was now more conflicted than ever.
The weight of needing to confess was like a detonator around his neck.
With Valentine’s Day just over a week away, the pressure was on. Izzy didn’t want to make a big deal of it. She told him she didn‘t want any fancy dinners, or fancy clubs. She had an accounting test and two case studies to get through in the next few weeks. Valentine’s Day wasn’t her focus.
And that was fine with him. Except that, as he got to know her better, he knew that she valued honesty and trust, over an expensive box of chocolates. He needed to tell her, so that they could start from a clean slate, but fear of how she would react, kept him silent.
He wrestled between telling her, and keeping silent. Izzy would never find out, Luke would never tell her, and their stupid secret would be safe forever, but he didn’t feel right keeping this from her. Not after everything she had already confided in him.
It had to be tonight, he decided, walking her back to her apartment. They’d gone out to dinner again, only this time she’d suggested one of her favorite student haunts, a noisy bar downtown. A night of cheap pizza and watered down fizzy drinks. The place was rammed with people, some of whom she knew. But it wasn’t conducive to talking, and once again, he’d backed out of his confession.
And now that they were back at her apartment, his intention was to see her in, and tell her something.
But they were already kissing by the time they’d walked in and closed the door. God, no. Kissing her, touching her, being with her drove him to the edge of distraction. She shrugged out of her coat, and with her hands around his neck, and her breasts hard against his chest, started to lead him towards the bedroom.
He resisted the movement. “No.”
Surprise filled her eyes as she looked up at him. Hell, no. His defenses were crumbling.
“No?” She bit his lower lip, then sucked it slowly.
He felt himself stiffen. It seemed to be something that happened on contact with this girl. It happened all the time, and it was going to do serious damage to his manhood, him having to jerk off as often as he did.
“Why no?” she asked, provocatively.
He pushed her back, steering her away from the couch, steering her someplace else that might be safe, places they hadn't already made out on.
“I want to talk.”
She laughed, throwing her head back, forcing him to stare at her neck and try to resist planting his lips there.
“We've just been talking,” she said, lowering her head and looking at him again. His heart was full of so much want for this girl, so much desire, and that, coupled with the feeling of wanting to protect her, make things be good for her, pushed him into an unfamiliar place.
He’d rushed into relationships, some just random dirty encounters with girls he’d barely known for more than a few days. This was new; strolling, not rushing, discovering, not fucking. His need for her was no longer driven by pure lust, but by the desire to know her heart and soul.
She fell back onto the ottoman, and he fell to the floor , looking up at her because he needed to see her face, needed to know what her reaction would be when he told her.
“You want to talk?” she asked, sitting back, her knees up against his chest. “Do you really want to talk, or is this another one of your moves?” With her hands on his shoulders, she leaned forwards and kissed him, and because he could never resist her, he kissed her back.
She shifted closer to him, moving her legs apart, their lips sealed hungrily as his tongue swirled around in her mouth, trying, trying, trying not to get too caught up in her.
Trying and failing miserably.
“Cara?” he said, using the word like a contraceptive.
“Isn’t here,” she replied, her glistening lips, red and swollen, were giving him ideas.
But his conscience was pressing on him like a giant fist.
Now.
His heart thundered.
He had to tell her, now.
“You surprise me, Stone,” she said, when they paused to take a breath. “You’re nothing like how I thought you would be.”
His hands pressed gently against the sides of her hips. “And you’re just like how I thought you would be.”
Their foreheads pressed together. “I used to think you were such a hedonistic jerk,” she said, in between kisses, “but now I see that I was wrong.”
He swallowed, and took her hands in his, his thumbs gently massaging her wrists. “I used to be a jerk,” he said, swallowing, bracing himself.
“Are you sure you don't want to take this to the bedroom?” she asked, her hot breath tempting across his skin.
“Izzy,” he said, waiting for her to look at him.
“Yes?” she replied, lifting up her arms and taking off her jumper. She had on a sleeveless t-shirt underneath, and his eyes fell to her toned, naked arms.
“Izzy,” he said again, dragging his gaze away, making it stay on her face. “I used to be a bit of an asshole, before. You know that, right?”
She put her arms around his neck, swooped close, their faces touching. “I know.”
Several times now he had run through that conversation in his head, how he would start it, what he would say. But now, now that he was kneeling on the floor, their faces level, his hands on her wrists, now her scent, and her heat, clouded his thinking. “What?” she asked, suddenly turning serious. “What is it?”
It was on the tip of his tongue. “It's...”
I have something to tell you.
But her sudden change in temperament was like a cold shower to his good intentions. If he told her and she walked, what then?
“Are you doubting going into business with Hennessy?” she asked, lifting her hands to his face.
How could he? How could he tell her that what he had done? Bet his friend $10K to get her into bed? And what chance did he have of her believing that he had changed his mind, and he had dropped it?
Not a chance in hell.
Even he wouldn't believe himself.
“No,” he said, kissing her upturned wrists, first one and then the other. He lifted his body and moved his face closer to her ear. “Nothing like that,” he mumbled, his nose brushing against the softness of her hair.
“Then what?” She pulled her wrists away, and gave him a stare that seemed to see right through him.
He couldn't risk losing her.
Not now.
Maybe now wasn't the time to come clean.
Not now when it was still in its early, fledging stages.
He lowered his face onto her thighs, more conflicted than ever. Her fingers raked through his hair, and he lifted his face.
“You’re scaring me, Xavier.” The zesty smell of her perfume made him heady, and his hands settled on her thighs, thinking, pondering, wanting.
Maybe later, once they were at the Hamptons, before they did anything, he would open his heart and confess. And she would see. She would understand.
His fingers snaked up towards the zipper of her jeans.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice low and raspy.
“Stand up,” he said, looking directly up at her, holding her gaze, and when she obliged, when she stood up slowly, he undid her button, and peeled down her zipper.
Oh,” she breathed, biting her lip as he tugged her jeans down a little. “This is what you had in mind.”
When she still didn’t object, he tugged her jeans all the way down, along with her panties. Right down to her ankles.
“You’re hard to resist,” he told her, pulling her back down on the ottoman, goosebumps shivering across his back as he pushed her knees apart. His mouth watered to see her glistening folds.
There would be other times for confession.
A quickening started low in her belly, rippling out, spreading like wildfire. She hesitated at first, unsure, yet tingling, her body ready to be pleasured again, like the last time.
“Closer,” he said, pulling her towards him. He was seeing her naked again, making her exposed, and open, and ready for him again. He wanted this, and she wanted to let him. He had been unusually quiet over dinner, and had seemed agitated and slightly uneasy just now, setting her on edge with worry. But then he took charge, told her to strip, and she did, because his command spoke directly to her core.
And when he sank his fingers into her wetness, he seemed to relax. He looked up at her, as if wanting to see her reaction while his fingers glided over her slickness. All she could do was gasp in response.
His touch was soft, soft, soft, and oh-so-teasing. She fell back onto her elbows, a soft mewl escaping her lips as his fingers and thumbs slid over her soaking folds. She should have been embarrassed, but she wasn’t. He had control of her body, and made her shudder, and moan, as he played with her, pulling and teasing, and gently pinching her soft, wet flesh.
A trail of fire snaked around her, curling along her inner thighs and slowly slithering upwards. She felt herself tensing, her toes curling, and her breasts heavy with want. Until he suddenly stopped, his fingers still, halting the rising crescendo of her wave, controlling the pace of her excitement. “It’s not fair,” she rasped, “You never let me touch you—”
But she didn’t get to finish her words, because in the next moment, he flicked his tongue, and she jerked at the change in texture, from his hard fingers, to his soft, wet mouth.
He licked her then, making her body shake and throb as he dragged his tongue, thick and flat and pressed up against her in slow, deliberate strokes. He started lower, in the heat of her center, and moved up to the tip where he lapped, and teased and sucked her, before moving back down again.
It was dirty, and intoxicating, and she writhed to his touch, clenching and releasing to his tune, in awe of his prowess, and what he could do to her. The intensity between them was raw, and animalistic, and she wanted to give him her all. Give him everything.
He kissed her below, for the longest, most delicious of moments, making her head roll back, because she had never experienced an emotion so deep, and so pure. She groaned, moving her feet to rest over his shoulders, feeling loose, and wet and shameless. He grunted appreciatively, a moan, low and guttural, coming from deep in his throat as he pulled her towards him, his tongue buried deep to the hilt, until it was all him.
She lay back, lifting her hips, pushing herself into his face, losing herself in him, then cried out, clenching her muscles and fisting her hands in his hair.
He came up for air, then, moved his face away and gave her time to breathe, and recover. But not for long. He lowered his head again and sucked her tip hard, this time thrusting his fingers in at the same time. Her cries filled the air and her entire body shook, releasing a surge so powerful, it engulfed her body, mind and soul.