Caroline

For a variety of reasons, Monday isn’t my favorite day of the week, but today I’m borderline panicking. Ever since I arrived this morning, I’ve had the impression that Karla and Helen are talking about me. Am I being paranoid? Have I done something wrong? Surely the principal would have told me.

During the afternoon break, I head straight to the staff room.

I find Karla and Helen with their heads together, stopping dead when they see me, straightening up.

“What’s going on?” I inquire. “You two have been acting odd all day.”

They exchange uneasy glances. Right, not my imagination, then.

“Did I do something? The principal didn’t tell me—”

Karla shakes her head. “Nah. It’s something else. You didn’t see. I thought it might be that. You were too calm the entire day.”

Panic flares inside me now. “See what?” Did something happen to Dad? Daniel?

With an apologetic look, she stands up, takes her phone out of the front pocket of her jeans, taps it a few times, then hands it to me. Ice-cold dread sweeps over me. Now I understand the whispers, the furtive looks. On the tiny screen is a photo of Daniel and someone who is definitely not me. By the rich blonde mane and the article’s title, I know it’s Beatrix.

And though the picture is badly lit and unclear, things are not looking good. I can’t be sure, because the angle’s bad, but there seems to be lip-locking involved. I don’t want to think too closely about that the tangle of arms. I scroll down, reading the article. A glance up at the browser tells me it’s a trashy gossip magazine. Wasn’t expecting anything less.

Back to the article. I fight the knot in my throat, blink a few times to clear the haze in my eyes.

Why on earth is this such news? Probably because Beatrix is engaged to an A-list actor. Swallowing hard and squaring my shoulders, I hand the phone back to Karla.

“Isn’t this the guy you’re seeing? Daniel Bennett? We thought it was him,” Helen says uncertainly.

“Yes. So?” I ask harshly.

“Oh,” Karla says, clearly misinterpreting my stoicism for indifference. “We didn’t realize you two were casual, no strings.”

Thankfully, they don’t get to pry much longer because the principal walks in, asking us about the trip we’re planning with the kids to the zoo next week. I answer almost robotically, my mind spinning, focusing on a few words. Casual, no strings. 

Once the principal’s out of the staff room, I excuse myself too, telling everyone I’m heading outside to prepare the yard for the afternoon after-school activities—which is true, but I also need to be alone with my thoughts.

I sway a little, unsteady on my feet as I make my way around the yard, my mind spinning and spinning until the vortex of thoughts is mirrored in my stomach, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.

Time to sit down a bit, draw in a few deep breaths, revisit the facts. One: the picture was unclear. Two: he came straight to me after the party, slipped in my bed.

But Daniel did break up with me once because he wanted to experiment and wasn’t ready to commit. This was ten years ago, though. And this time, it’s all been so different. So much sweetness underneath the passion, so many honest moments where we both let our guards down. It wasn’t all in my head, was it? It wasn’t just me building it up in my mind? Assuming there was more? 

But the picture, that damn picture. Fuzzy and badly lit as it is, it’s still enough to raise my doubts. He didn’t tell me anything about the weekend except that he won’t organize other bachelorette parties. I didn’t read anything into it. Should I have? But he wouldn’t have slipped right back in my bed if anything had happened.

By the time I head back inside, I feel like a zombie, tired from fighting with myself, from measuring pros and cons in my mind. I’m going through the motions, willing this day to finally be over so I can get out of here. Helen and Karla keep glancing furtively at me, and I want to tell them to mind their own business. Except when your personal life is online, it’s everyone’s business. From time to time, I check my phone, but there’s no message from Daniel. No surprise there. He said he’d keep his phone shut off today so he can concentrate on the group instead of dealing with calls related to the employee he fired. 

He’s on a day trip with a group, on a boat tour around the bay with a three-hour stop at Alcatraz. But he did tell me he’ll go to his office after the tour, at around six o’clock.

So, the second the last kid is picked up, I head straight for his office, my mind made up.

***

Daniel

Lena is still at reception when I step inside my office building.

“Daniel, you’re here. Finally. I need to—”

“Give me five minutes, Lena. Five minutes.”

She nods, lips pressed together.

Inside my office, I finally turn on my phone. Jesus. Notifications keep popping up on my screen like mad. I have missed calls from my entire family. Shit, did something happen to any of them? Or Caroline?

Then I see the dozen missed calls from my employees too. I’ve got about two dozen messages too. From Beatrix as well. What does she want from me? Speak of the devil, she’s calling right now.

“Finally, you pick up,” she exclaims.

“What’s going on? Been on a tour all day, my phone was turned off.”

“Great. I take it you haven’t seen the photo? The article?”

“What photo? What article?”

She talks so fast, it’s hard to keep up, but I do my best, swearing in between.

“I don’t get it. They’ve got a photo of what? Nothing happened.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Daniel. You’re a veteran at this. The press spins everything around. They’ve got a picture of me hanging around your neck when you were bringing me back to the hotel, half passed out. Light’s crappy, so is the angle. Looks like we’re kissing.”

I groan, dragging a hand down my face. How the hell did this happen? My stomach sinks. Has Caroline seen this? Did she believe it? Fuck.

“Beatrix, I got to go. Need to make an important call.”

“Grant and I will be making a statement about this. You might get a bit of hate email from his fans, but—”

“I’ll deal with it. But I need to go right now. I have something important to do.”

As soon as the call disconnects, I look up the article online. My entire body tenses, then relaxes again. The photo doesn’t look too damning to me, but that might be because I was there and know what happened. Will Caroline believe me? I don’t have much in my defense except my word. 

Rumors about myself never bothered me, unless they could hurt my family. I’ve always focused on killing fake stories about my brothers. Since Logan and Sebastian are something close to golden boys, the made-up rumors about them are especially vicious. Just last month, a local trashy magazine was about to publish a “story” about Logan having another family. Blake and I called in about one hundred favors so it would never come out. Sebastian says fighting these things is futile. Maybe he’s right. The family would know the truth anyway. But here’s the thing: their kids aren’t old enough to understand. They’d just get confused, maybe hero-worship their fathers less.

And when enough shit gets written about you, people eventually start believing that at least some of it has to be true. Since my eldest siblings have always been a more interesting target, I never cared much what was written about me. Now, though, I have a big reason to care, and her name is Caroline. 

Sitting at the edge of my desk, I hover with my thumb over the screen of my phone. Nah, this conversation needs to be face-to-face. If my word is all she’ll have, I best deliver it in person.

Lena pokes her head through my door. “There’s someone here to see you, Daniel.”

When the door opens wide, Caroline comes into view. She gives Lena a small smile, comes inside, and closes the door.

“You saw.” Lamest opening if there ever was one.

Caroline nods, chewing on her lower lip, avoiding eye contact. “Just after lunch. The girls at work showed me.” She takes a deep breath, snaps her gaze up. “And I decided I don’t believe a word of it. That picture? Might look like a kiss, but I’m sure it was not.”

I cross the room to her, wrap my arms around her waist, and kiss her hard. Fuck, I didn’t even know how much I needed this. Her full trust. Her blind trust. She pushes her sweet body against mine, sighs against my mouth. As long as she trusts me, I don’t care about anything else. 

“You decided, hmm?” I murmur when we pause for a breath, keeping my arms where they are. I’m not letting her go. Not yet.

She nods, sighing quietly. “I panicked at first, but you’ve been so... I mean, everything between us has felt so real, I thought there’s no way you’d do that.” Uncertainty flickers in her eyes, her body tensing. “Would you?”

“No, love, I wouldn’t.” She relaxes in my arms. “Before you came, I was just thinking about how to build my defense when all I have is my word.”

“Your word is enough for me,” she says almost breathlessly, smiling up at me—best damn thing I’ve seen all day. I pull her even closer to me. Caroline is one of a kind. I knew that nine years ago too, but was too stupid to fully appreciate it. Now I’m going to show her how much I appreciate her, every day. I kiss the tip of her nose, her forehead, dust my lips to her temple.

“Here is the entire story: Beatrix was drunk, I carried her back to the hotel. Her friends helped her to her room. There’s nothing more to it.”

“I believe you.”

Just like that. She believes me.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

“This feels different than before.” Her eyes widen, and she immediately casts her glance away, shaking her head as if chastising herself for saying out loud something she wasn’t supposed to. She’s adorable when she has entire conversations in her head, but I want to be part of this particular one.

“Different how?” I nudge.

“Never mind.” She tries to wiggle out of my arms, but I just keep her more firmly in place.

“I want to know.”

“No, you do not. These are things better kept for girls’ night out. Women dissect these topics for hours at a time. Men are more straightforward, and feelings talk sends them running for the hills, and—”

“Give me more credit.” I kiss the tip of her nose again. “Come on, try me. How is it different?”

“It feels deeper. More real.”

“Thank God I’m not the only one feeling this way.”

***

Caroline

Did he just say that?

“Dan,” I whisper, but don’t say more because he seems to want to continue talking, and I want to soak up every word.

“Back in college, I cared about you, but not like this. I liked how much fun we had together. Liked undressing you every chance I got. I like those things now too, but also our quiet nights together, asking you about your day, telling you about mine. These last couple of weeks haven’t been the easiest, but knowing you’re mine, all sweet and wild. I like building a life together with you, Caroline.” 

“So, what you mean is, before you used to enjoy the sun with me, and now you also like holding an umbrella over me when it rains.”

He furrows his brow, looking confused. “What?”

I smile sheepishly. “Sorry, my mom used to say that: love isn’t just about enjoying the sunny days together, but holding an umbrella for each other when it rains.”

“Ah, I get it.”

He seals his mouth over mine, kissing me hard. His hands move around my back, slide down my ass, groping me shamelessly. Then he kisses down my neck, my shoulder. Feeling his lips and frantic breath on my bare skin sends sparks all over my nerve endings. His mouth becomes greedier still, descending on my collarbone. 

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“I need you.”

“Ri—right now?”

“Right now. I’m not going to allow you to leave this office until you come.”

I let out a sound of exasperation mixed with excitement, but don’t make a single attempt to wiggle out of his arms, or to stop him. I want this, his unrestrained passion.

He kisses me again, harder, as if he hasn’t kissed me in weeks. When he unhitches his lips, he directs his attention to my chest. I’m wearing a knee-length wool dress, and thick stockings that reach my upper thighs. I’m also wearing a push-up bra, so my girls are squished together nicely. Daniel clearly appreciates this, dragging his lips on the tops of my breasts.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs. “We’re going to have to be quiet.”

A thrill runs through me, jolting my cells alive. This is going to be fun.  

I lean into him, kissing his lips, his jaw. He has a light scruff I adore. It grazes my lips, but just barely. It’s a little rough, a lot masculine. Like Daniel.

I want to kiss every inch of him, but one look at Daniel makes it clear he has other plans. Those sinful dark eyes are trained on me, so full of lust and determination it makes my stomach flutter. He towers over me, skimming his hands over my shoulders, down my arms. His mouth is everywhere, nipping at my neck, grazing my shoulder. I’m shuddering in anticipation, not knowing where he’ll put his lips next. Will it be my chest, my shoulders again? He does neither, instead whirling me around, pushing my hair to one side, and kissing the back of my neck until I’m trembling in his arms. I decide to stop trying to anticipate his every move and just allow myself to be surprised. And holy hell, does he ever surprise me by cinching the dress up at my sides, lifting it up, up, up. Then he pushes the thong to one side, driving a finger inside me. I buckle forward, a gasp escaping my lips.

“Quiet,” he growls.

“How do you expect me to be quiet when you do this?”

Daniel moves the finger in and out of me, sliding a second one inside.

“I love that you’re so wet for me, Caroline.” His voice is a low, sinful whisper. When he slides his fingers out, moving to my clit, I nearly bite my tongue with the effort of staying quiet. I won’t be able to do it. He circles my bundle of nerves until my entire body tightens up.

With a sharp exhale, I push his hand away, turning to face him. Time to give him some of his own medicine. Before he can do anything, I lower myself onto my knees, work on his belt, freeing him, and holy shit. The sight of him in his clothes with just his cock hanging out is surreal. I want to eat all of him up, one lick at a time. But that’s too ambitious a project for right now, so I settle for licking all over his erection. Up to the base, back to the crown, dipping my tongue in the crevice right under the tip. Daniel lets out a low, guttural groan.

“On my desk, Caroline.”

Holy bananas, his tone is doing wicked things to me. So of course, instead of doing that, I take him deeper in my mouth. Daniel gasps, the veins on his neck cording briefly. Then he pulls out and helps me to my feet.

“I said on my desk.” He swipes his tongue over my lips before claiming my mouth. I feel myself walk backward and then the edge of the desk presses against my ass. Daniel hoists me up onto it. I let my flats drop to the floor.

“On your elbows.”

I do just that, perching my feet on the edge of the desk.

“You look sexy in these stockings,” he says as I gather my dress around me, and I make a mental note to wear them with garters next time. He pushes my panties to one side. But just when I think he’s going to drive inside me, he bends down, kissing me right on my folds. My hips lift off the desk, pressing against his face.

He slides his tongue inside me, his thumb pressing on my clit. Oh God, this is all too much. Tension strums through me, intensifying quickly. Too quickly. 

I’m right on the cusp of an orgasm, but Daniel stops, instead sliding inside me, covering my mouth with his hand. I explode the moment he enters me, spasming around him, my groans muffled by his palm. Then he brings his hands under my ass, lifting it a little. Fingers pressed deep into my glutes, he starts loving me in earnest, hard, fast, and desperate.

“Come closer,” he rasps in between thrusts, and I understand what he means, because I feel the same way too. I want—need—to be closer to him. Touching isn’t really possible in this position, but I want to be as close to him as possible.

I push myself up, almost in a sitting position, leveling myself on my palms, changing the angle between us. Daniel thrusts against a point so deep inside me that my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. He leans over slightly and our mouths clash halfway in a frantic kiss. I can taste both of us in this kiss, and it is the damned sexiest thing. We kiss each other’s sounds of pleasure. The muscles in my arms scream in protest, the edge of the desk cutting into the soles of my feet as I meet his desperation with equal fervor.

“Fuck, I need to touch you,” he said hoarsely. “I need your skin.”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he lifts me off the desk, laying me down on the carpet. And then he unbuttons his shirt faster than I’ve ever seen him. My work is easier; I just lift my dress over my head, unclasp my bra and throw it somewhere in the room. Then Daniel lies on top of me, every inch of my torso touching his front. The skin-on-skin contact is like a breath of fresh air.

“I needed to be close to you like this,” he whispers in my ear as he slides inside me.

“So did I. But I didn’t know how to ask.”

“I have a confession to make.” He touches my cheek with the tip of his nose tenderly. “I don’t know if I’m falling for you all over again, or if I never stopped loving you.”

My eyes well with emotion. “I never stopped.”

He looks straight down at me, smiling before covering my mouth with his. We rock against each other, a tangle of limbs, caresses, and kisses until we both shatter from the sensations.

Limp with pleasure, we remain sprawled on the floor, drawing our breaths. Right until a knock at the door startles us. Jumping to our feet, we arrange our clothes as quickly as possible. Daniel opens the door, and Lena hovers in front of it.

“Sorry, Daniel, but it’s late, and I’m having dinner with some friends. Is there anything you need me to do before I leave? How do you want to handle the Beatrix issue?”

“Don’t worry about it. She and Grant will make a statement. There’s not much else to do except wait for it to die down.”

“Do you think this has anything to do with Justin?”

Daniel narrows his eyes, considering this. “I bet he paid someone at the LA hotel to take pictures for him. Go to your dinner. Sorry I kept you waiting.”

She glances at me, hides a small smile. My entire face feels on fire.

“No problem. Have a good night.”

When he closes the door, I cover my cheeks with my hands. “She knows.”

“Nah.”

“She knows.”

“She suspects. Different things. But since she’s leaving anyway....” He wiggles his eyebrows. “We could pick up where we left.”

“Daniel Bennett, are you propositioning me again?”

“Yes.”

I narrow my eyes, planting my hands on my hips. Right, this is supposed to be the “stern woman look”—something Mom and Jenna Bennett always pulled off to perfection. I have a hunch I look ridiculous, but persistence leads to mastery.

“I will have you know that was cheap.” It also made all my lady parts tingle, because I’m just as cheap, but I’ll keep that to myself.

“Caroline, don’t play the proper card with me. I know you too well.” Stepping closer, he adds in a lower octave, “And I just had you on my desk and the floor of my office.”

“It was worth a try, though,” I say with a shrug. Then I have a wicked thought, and well, since we just established proper isn’t cutting it for us, why not voice it? “I won’t mind if you take advantage of me some more once we get out of here, though.”

His eyes widen, and he exhales sharply. One of his hands twitches as if he wants to touch me right here and now, and is barely restraining himself.

“You’re a little wicked thing,” he murmurs.

“All your fault. You stand there, all hard muscle, full lips, and sexy eyes, what’s a girl to do?”

I’m enumerating all this on my fingers, looking down at them. When I raise my gaze to him, I startle at the vulnerability etched on his expression.

“What do you feel when you’re with me, Caroline?”

“I feel that I belong in your arms.”

He exhales, and for a brief second, I wonder if he really thought I feel anything less. He takes one of my hands, kisses my palm, then moves my hand up his cheek, leans into my touch. He looks so vulnerable, I don’t know what to make of it. So I follow my instinct, stepping closer and rising on my toes to kiss him. He responds with so much tenderness, it makes my insides melt. I lace my arms around his neck and put as much heart as I can in the kiss. We only part when we both need a mouthful of air.

He still looks out of sorts, almost nervous. I wish I knew what has him so on edge. That would make softening said edge so much easier.

Before I have a chance to ask, Daniel moves around to the back of his desk, picks something up in his fist from the top drawer, and returns to me, holding it up. 

“I want you to have this,” he says.

“A key?”

“To my apartment.”

“Oh, sure. Want me to water your plants while you’re gone to Sydney?” I make a mental inventory of them. There are only three pots.

He shakes his head. “No, I want you to have it. For good.”

Oh. Oh!

Now I understand why he was nervous. If I’m honest, I’ve become jittery myself in the two seconds since his meaning clicked into my mind. Then my heart swells with emotion.

“Wow, are you sure?” I ask. Wrong approach, because his expression hardens a bit.

“If you don’t want—”

“I do want it,” I assure him. “But I don’t want you to regret it.”

He’s smiling now, and some of my anxiety bleeds away. “It’s a little fast, but it also feels like I’ve been waiting ten years to do this.”

I take the key, and if I were alone, I’d hug the tiny scrap of metal to my chest. Well, on second thought, why shouldn’t I? I’ve never been shy about expressing myself, and Daniel is intimately aware of my little displays of craziness. So, I hug it to my chest, and shimmy my hips in a small dance too. He’s giving me a piece of his heart, and I make a silent promise to cherish it, take care of it. Yes, this feels like it’s moving faster than the wind, but I can learn to fly at his speed. 

He laughs, cups my face, and kisses me again. “I love seeing you so happy. Making you happy.”

“Back at you. Just giving you heads-up, but I’m so happy right now, I’d do anything you ask me.”

“See, now giving me carte blanche like this is dangerous.”

“No, it’s not. I trust you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I trust you to take advantage of me thoroughly and completely.”

Daniel steps closer, leans into my private space until he’s so close, we’re breathing the same air. His eyes have a dangerous glint, and heat rushes through me. How can he do this? How can he still take my breath away? Still make me weak in the knees with nothing more than a look? In all these years, I haven’t grown immune to his charms in the least. If anything, I’ve become more susceptible.

Right now, I feel particularly close to him. I tighten my grip on the key and can’t help smiling from ear to ear. I’m going to make a copy of the key to my apartment for him when he returns from Sydney.