Chapter Twenty-Four
Anthony
I slap a porterhouse down on the grill and listen to it sizzle. It’s got to be one of the most satisfying sounds in life, I think. Up there with a great call for my team in hockey and hearing Jane moan my name. I’m not usually the guy to eat a porterhouse—too much cholesterol, that sort of thing—but I’m in the mood for meat. Something juicy. I’m victorious and really proud of myself for the first time in a long time.
I’m also in my jockey shorts after a long and rather intense make-out session in my room which only came to an end when our stomachs rumbled. Jane ties an apron around my waist to keep me from getting hit with grease spatter, then kisses my bare shoulder. She moves around to my side and lifts a wine glass to my lips as I flip the vegetables sitting on the grill next to the beef. I savor the rich, full-bodied red wine almost as much as the taste of her mouth on mine. Maybe later I’ll taste them both at the same time.
“You’re incredible, you know that?” she whispers. Her eyes meet mine and the way they smolder just about undoes me. She’s in her underwear, one of my tailored shirts hanging open on her tiny frame so I can see hints of cleavage and red lace. She looks fragile and unbearably sexy all at once. The fragile bit is just appearance. I know all too well how strong she is. I remember taking strength from her during the meeting. Just knowing she was there, watching and supporting me, made all the difference. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me. My hands find her body even though they should really be taking care of dinner.
The food doesn’t seem that important as I take her mouth. My tongue slips between her lips, and I learn that the combination of the wine and her is indeed as heady as I expected. I’ll have to try it on some other body parts.
I lift her onto the island across from the stove and relish the tightening of her legs around my waist as the kiss deepens. She’s just as eager for me as I am for her, and the knowledge that a woman this amazing wants me makes me feel more powerful than anything I’ve ever done.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, then work on the knot she just tied to undo the apron. As it falls to the floor, she presses her face against my bare chest, raining kisses across my skin. When her teeth worry at my nipple, I groan. I smell the steak burning just before burying my face between her breasts and inhaling a much sweeter scent.
She’s like a fucking drug. I can’t get enough of her.
She groans, holding my head to her breasts as I began to lick and bite my way across her flesh until I find one tight nipple. She wriggles against me, rubbing my thickening dick against the crotch of her increasingly wet panties, and soon we’re humping through our underwear, breathless, hands and mouths all over each other. I suck on her nipple harder this time, and her back arches as she groans in satisfaction.
“Screw this,” I mutter as I lift her in my arms.
A quick flick of the wrist turns off the stove. Not in time to save our food, but at least preventing a fire. A lost dinner is one thing. I don’t feel like having the fire department interrupt my night. I can afford to replace some steak and vegetables.
I carry her to the bedroom and throw her onto the bed. She squeals softly, giggling, but that giggle dies when she feels my hands gliding up from ankle to thigh. I peel off her panties and waste no time getting a condom ready. We’ve done enough foreplay, and the dark look on her face tells me she agrees. I’m rock hard by the time I settle between her legs.
Just before I slide into her, she puts her hands on my chest. I give her a puzzled look until she gives me a little push. I grin as I grab her waist and spin us around so she’s on top of me.
“Let me do the work,” she whispers against my lips.
Then she pushes herself up on her knees, letting my shirt fall open to expose those gorgeous breasts of hers. She reaches underneath her and wraps her fist around my cock. I start to groan, but it turns into a curse as she begins to lower herself onto me.
“Anthony, fuck. Oh, fuck!” Her curses are almost as sweet as the sensation of sliding into that tight sheath.
So tight.
Her eyes are closed by the time she’s taken all of me, her palms flat on my stomach, nails biting into my skin. I love watching her like this, how she abandons all pretenses, drops all of her walls and inhibitions. I reach up and palm her breasts, kneading them, teasing her nipples between finger and thumb. She rides me fast and hard, her pussy squeezing me as I feel her thigh muscles flexing against my waist.
I can feel myself closing in on my release, and I know she’s not quite there yet, so I drop one of my hands and press my thumb against her clit. I make quick back and forth movements, taking her to the edge as fast as she’s taking me. I still get there first, white-hot pleasure coursing through me. But she follows a few seconds later, collapsing onto me as she cries out my name. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight.
I don’t like the idea of letting her go.
As we lie there, she shifts off of me, but keeps pressed against my side.
“Can I tell you something?”
Her voice is small, and I wonder if I’m going to finally hear one of those things that make the shadows go across her face.
“Have you ever had a secret so deep that you want to tell someone, but you’re terrified that people will look at you differently when they find out?”
I kiss the top of her head and stroke my hand down her bare arm. “I will never look at you any differently, no matter what you tell me. You can trust me.”
She takes a deep breath, but I don’t push her. When she starts to talk, it takes everything in me to stay calm when all I want to do is find that fucking bastard and chop his balls off. Then feed them to him. While he’s tied to a fire ant hill. Covered in honey. Naked. In hundred and twenty-degree heat.
All of this is running through my head, but I don’t share any of it with her, because that’s not what she needs right now. What she needs is for me to tighten my arms around her, kiss her, tell her that it doesn’t change the way I feel about her. I can’t quite bring myself to say the l word yet, but as her body relaxes, I know she understands.
I stay awake until she falls asleep, and only then do I let myself do it as well.
It’s dark when I wake up the next morning. I can’t stand winter mornings. I like waking up to sun, but that’s just not possible when I have a job to get to. I don’t think Dad would care very much if I told him I prefer getting out of bed after the sun’s high in the sky. I reach for her without thinking twice. Maybe she’ll be up for another go-round before we get out of bed. Or we could take a shower together. That’s always fun.
Except she’s not there.
My eyes fly open when I realize I’m touching empty bed beside me. I listen hard, but can’t hear any noise coming from the bathroom. The kitchen, maybe? It would be just like her to fix breakfast for me. I tie the belt of my robe loosely around my waist before going out to greet her. Maybe we’ll get through an entire meal together without groping at each other, even though that doesn’t sound very fun to me.
She’s sitting at the island with her back to me, reading something on her laptop. “You know, you don’t have to prove to me that you’re a hard worker,” I mumble as I enter the kitchen. “I’m not your boss right now, remember?”
She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even look at me when my voice breaks the silence.
“Babe? What’s wrong?” I’m still rubbing sleep out of my eyes as I walk over to her. She still doesn’t look at me. I wonder if she heard me, but I know she had to. I’m standing barely two feet away.
It’s only when I’m close enough to look over her shoulder that I see what she’s staring at, and it all makes sense. My stomach sinks like it’s turned to lead. Fucking parasite paparazzi. Who the hell was taking pictures in the club? And who the hell would think that’s even a story?
Above a picture of me and a woman who looks a hell of a lot like Trinity is a headline: On Again? Judging from the way we’re sucking each other’s faces off, it sure looks like we’re on again.
I wish I could strangle whoever took the picture. Soulless vultures. I wish they’d stay the hell away from my life.
“What is this?” Jane’s voice is little more than a whisper. I open my mouth to assure her it means nothing, to try to explain what looks inexplicable. Only I have no voice. Nothing comes out because, really, there’s nothing I can say that’ll help. I look guilty. I feel that way, too.
Especially since it’s not like Trinity was forcing herself on me. I may have stopped her eventually, but I was a willing participant.
Jane turns to me, and the lack of light in her eyes twists a knife in my chest.
“What the hell is this?” she asks again.