He interrupts me with a finger to my lips. “No need to put up a fight, baby girl. Your virtue is safe with me. I wouldn’t dream of taking you out of your role.” He smirks. “Just your dress.”

  And that’s when I remember this is all for show. He isn’t going to get me naked when we return to Zodiac Estate…is he?

  The four of us make our way around the busy tables toward the grand foyer, where a man in a tux cashes out chips. When he sees Ford and Axel, he frowns. “How much did you bleed me for this time?”

  “Not as much as I could have.” Ford sets his winnings on the table.

  “You’re lucky I like you, Stryker.”

  “You only like me because I bring you a shitload of business.”

  “Which is why I turn a blind eye to your talents.” He begins organizing the chips into neat stacks. “Who’s the pretty girl?” he asks without lifting his head.

  “Novalee Van Buren.”

  The man falters a beat before exchanging the poker chips for the correct amount of cash. “I dated your lady a few months ago. Nice girl, but things didn’t work out. Heard she married Landon Astor.”

  My heart drops to the bottom of my gut, and cold fury tingles down my limbs. I tighten my grip on Ford, my knees threatening to give out. “You must be Jerome.” His name is acid on my tongue, nails on a chalkboard to my ears, but I have to know.

  His only answer is a knowing twitch of his lips. “Please send her my well wishes.”

  By the time Ford ushers me into the chilly night, my blood is spiked with too much adrenaline. I barely notice the drizzle on my skin. Ford and Axel say their goodbyes, and minutes later, we’re in the limo again, heading back to the tower.

  “Are you okay?” Ford asks after several miles pass in silence.

  “I didn’t know Jerome was hosting.”

  Ford tilts his head. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”

  “I don’t. Elise...she…um, she…dated him for a while.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  My breath stalls. “Why do you say that?”

  “Jerome’s an asshole to the ladies.”

  He’s more than an asshole, but I can’t tell Ford what the monster did to Elise without putting everything she’s built with Landon in jeopardy.

  “Thank you for coming with me tonight,” Ford says, steering my thoughts away from Jerome and how he’s free as a bird while Elise has to live with what he did for the rest of her life.

  “Thank you for not using me as a bargaining chip.”

  “Axel was bluffing with that bet. A surprising bluff, I’ll give him that, but still a bluff.”

  “He sounded serious to me.”

  “He wasn’t.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  Ford shrugs. “He knew I’d out-gamble him, and there’s no way he’s giving up that car.”

  “But it’s called gambling for a reason. Why would he assume you’d come out ahead?”

  “Because I’ve always been better at counting cards, and I’m not as conservative on placing bets.”

  I blink. “You were counting cards?”

  “Yep, and your presence did what I knew it would. He was distracted, or he wouldn’t have thrown his prized Bugatti in my face.”

  “The surprises never end with you, do they?”

  “I try to keep people on their toes.” Slowly, he drags his heated gaze down my chest. “I meant to tell you earlier how much I love that dress on you.”

  “You’re not really going to get me out of it, are you?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “N-no.” What’s wrong with me? Why am I suddenly hot and shaky and stuttering weak denials?

  He must pick up on the imposter taking over my body, because a second later, he’s on his knees in front of me, his steady hands working their way under my skirt and up my thighs. He wedges my legs apart but stops short of touching my pussy.

  “Tell me to make you come, and I will, Novalee.”

  “I shouldn’t want it.”

  “But you do. Don’t deny yourself. There’s no room for shame or guilt here.”

  “I’m in love with him.”

  “He’s not here right now. I am, and there’s no shame in taking care of your needs, just like the rest of us.”

  “He’s not touching other women.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do know that, Ford. Letting this happen…” I shake my head. “It isn’t fair to him.”

  “Maybe it’s not about fairness, right versus wrong, or loyalty. Maybe it’s about what every atom of your body is telling you right now. Stop giving and start taking. You’ve earned it.”

  “I…I can’t.”

  He pulls away, disappointment straining his features, but my traitorous whimper brings him back. “If you won’t let me do it, then get yourself off. You need this.” He squeezes my thighs. “You’re wound so tight you’re about to break.”

  “I’m strong enough not to.” Pulling myself together, I inch away from the promise of his hands and the pleasure they can give me. The tempting escape they offer. “Everything I’m feeling right now is for him. I’m sorry.”

  With a sheepish grin, he returns to his seat across from the minibar. “I understand. I hope you’ll forgive me for trying.” He pours himself another drink, and I wonder how his liver will survive if he keeps drinking it into early retirement.

  He lifts his glass in a toast. “To you and Sebastian. May you have plenty of orgasms during your special weekend.”

  A sad smile creeps across my face. Despite his friends, the endless women, the generous bank account, and the free-flowing booze, Ford Stryker seems like a lonely soul too busy outrunning life’s expectations to find his true potential in the world.

  11

  “I’ve got a surprise for you.” Ford stands in the doorway of my studio, his hands in his pockets as a wide grin animates his features. I glance at the clock and realize it’s almost five. I sent my team home over an hour ago because I couldn’t concentrate with the excitement over this weekend coursing through me, and I didn’t want to look like a lovesick fool in front of them. And yet, somehow, I got immersed in work after they left.

  “I can’t believe I lost track of time.” I jump up from the table, and the sketch I was working on is instantly forgotten. “And what surprise? I still need to pack for the weekend.” In a frantic hurry, I put away fabric samples, clean up odds and ends that fell to the floor during the hectic day, and tidy workstations. Ford lingers in the doorway the whole time, watching with that easy-going smile of his.

  “Leave it, Novalee. The mess isn’t going anywhere, but you are.”

  “Wait…what?”

  He gestures toward the hall. “We’re going for a ride before you head up to Sebastian’s floor.”

  “Why?”

  “Like I said. It’s a surprise.”

  I’m not sure I like his surprises, but the longer I stand here arguing with him, the longer it’ll take me to get to Sebastian. I mentally kick myself for not paying more attention to the clock.

  “You promise you’ll have me back in time?”

  “Yes.”

  As I lock up my studio, I study the profile of his handsome face. “Let me guess…you won’t tell me where we’re going, will you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not a gambling shindig, I’m guessing.”

  “Not enough time.” He wiggles his brows. “Unless you want to blow off lover boy to be my date?”

  I laugh. “Not a chance.”

  “Didn’t think so. A guy can hope though, right?”

  Ford’s penchant for flirting is as commonplace to me now as the monthly exchange. It’s a constant part of my life, at least until I leave his house in a couple of days. I can’t deny that I’ve warmed up to his dirty-minded humor and harmless innuendos. Some days, I dare to call him a friend.

  He takes my arm, and we navigate the halls before he ushers me into the frigid November air. The sky is dark and gray as night sets in, and Ford’s driver waits in the drizzle next to the same limo we took to the party.

  “I’ve only got two hours.”

  “I know.” He holds up a blindfold. “Surprise first. You’ll see Sebastian soon enough.”

  As he fastens the soft fabric around my head, hindering my eyesight, excited curiosity flutters in my belly.

  “Take my hand.” His voice is soft and deep, his grip firm as he leads me across the wet pavement to the idling vehicle. Soon, we’re in the backseat, and he keeps my hand in his as the driver takes us to Ford’s secret destination.

  “You won’t even give me a hint?”

  “My lips are sealed, baby girl.”

  I’m not sure how much time passes, but eventually we slow, my body leaning into his as the vehicle turns and heads into what feels like a downgrade. Ford exhales, and something about that sad sigh pulls at my heartstrings.

  “Can you do something for me before I take off the blindfold?”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  He turns my head toward the sound of his voice, his thumb a light caress across my lips. “Kiss me.”

  My heart skips a beat, and instead of answering, I lift my chin. The next moments slip past in suspended uncertainty. A subtle yearning to taste him threatens to send me into the land of guilt and regret, but I fight it.

  It’s just a kiss—as innocent and pure as the unlikely friendship budding between us.

  In the next instant, his lips press against mine, soft and warm and insistent as he darts his tongue into my mouth. Swallowing a small whimper, I welcome his exploration, unable to do anything but surrender, because his head-spinning kiss…

  It feels so final.

  He pulls away before I expect him to. “Thank you for giving me one of the best months of my life.” His voice is thick, breaths hitting my lips too fast. “If I believed in the institution of marriage, I’d want it to be with you.”

  I’m searching for the words to convey my confusion over this entire interlude when he removes the blindfold. Blinking his face into focus, I notice the affection in his hazel eyes first, and the meaning behind that stare claims the small piece of my heart I hadn’t realized was vacant until now. A second later, my attention shifts, and our surroundings come into focus.

  The crash of waves on the nearby beach.

  The narrow tree-lined drive.

  The storybook house with the familiar gabled roof.

  “Oh my God.”

  “Sebastian’s waiting for you.” Ford nods toward the cottage after the chauffeur opens the door.

  I gape at him, struggling for words. Struggling not to cry. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. You deserve to be happy, and from what I hear, this place makes you happy. He makes you happy.”

  Overcome, I embrace him. “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me,” he says, voice strangled. “I’ll be back Sunday morning to pick you up for the exchange.”

  I don’t want to think about the next month, the next man, the next burden of blind discovery that comes with the introduction of a new house. For the next thirty-six hours or so, I refuse to think of the future at all.

  “You’re a good guy, Ford Stryker,” I whisper, placing a kiss on his cheek. “This means more to me than you’ll ever know.” With that, I slide from the limo and make my way toward the cottage.

  The door is unlocked, and after I let myself inside, the familiar dark interior greets me, lit only by the glow of candlelight and burning logs in the fireplace. I stall in the foyer, taken back to the month of Leo—as if I’m not shivering, hair damp from the autumn rain. It’s a vivid sense of déjà vu, and so real that I almost expect summer to exist on the other side of the door.

  Expect to find the heat of the sun on my skin, the sweet scent of foliage in the air, the discovery of love and laughter in the sand.

  As I step into the living room, I sense him behind me before the warmth of his touch drifts down my arms. He tugs me against him by the hips, and desire flares, shuddering through me with the force of a summer storm.

  “I need you,” I say in a breathless whisper.

  With a low growl, he cups my breasts. “You’ve got me.” His lips land on the sensitive spot below my ear, his tongue hot and wet and hungry on my skin.

  He shuffles us toward the sofa—the closest place where two people can get horizontal—and we fall onto the cushions in a tangle of limbs. As he pushes my dress out of the way, desperation drives him. He shoves a hand down the front of my panties, finding me slick and ready.

  “So fucking wet.” As his fingers dip inside me, he watches me with hooded eyes, the glow from the candlelight dancing across his features. “Feels like forever since I’ve touched you like this.”

  “Sebastian.” His name is a breathless cry as my chest heaves against his.

  “I know, princess.” His forehead drops to mine, and I spread wider to accept him as he thrusts those fingers deeper. He strokes me with the perfect rhythm, the perfect depth, his technique confident because he knows his way around my body like no one else.

  This man knows exactly how to make my pussy weep for him.

  About to burst at the seams, I hold his cheeks, urging him back an inch until our eyes meet. For several minutes, we say nothing. Do nothing except feel. It overwhelms me, the bond between us, the connection. Unfettered emotion stings my eyes.

  His brows furrow. “Don’t cry.” He starts to withdraw, but I arch into him, my body chasing his hand.

  “Don’t stop.”

  “Why are you crying?”

  “Because it feels so good.”

  “Then take what you need from me. It’s all yours.”

  “Kiss me.” I reach for his mouth, my lips parting to invite the conquer of his tongue, the taste of delirium, the intimacy only he has the power to give me. His steady licks match the tempo of his fingers, and I moan with each slide of those digits.

  Breaking the kiss, he turns those ocean eyes on me. “I need to watch you come apart, but Jesus,” he groans. “You’re too damn sweet on my lips.” The battle is lost, and he comes back for more, one hand tangled in my hair as his mouth devours mine. He pumps his fingers between my thighs, determination infusing his quickening strokes, and white hot need sears the air. It throbs between us, constricting the oxygen.

  I contract around his fingers, my hoarse cries filling the room.

  “Goddamn, princess. That’s my girl. Come all over my hand.”

  The release is indescribable, intensified by our time apart. But it’s still not enough. It’ll never be enough as long as he feels this good against me.

  Spurred on by a rush of endorphins and the frenzied-state of my mind, I shove him to his back and crawl over his sprawled body. One long leg hangs off the sofa as he stares at me with wide eyes. He’s wearing dark gray sweatpants, no shirt, and I tug down the elastic waistband, frantic with the need to hear him come. To taste him. To own him.

  His cock is hard as steel, the tip leaking his excitement all over his toned abs, and it calls to my mouth. I lick my lips, preparing to take every inch.

  “Fuck, Novalee. That mouth will be the death of me.”

  “But what a way to go.” Locking my gaze with his, I inch my lips down his shaft, my mind going into a tailspin as his unique essence hits my tastebuds. He tucks that tempting bottom lip between his teeth, and his urgent fingers thread through my hair as he watches me suck the sanity right out of him.

  “Deeper.” The forceful thrusting of his hips brings him to the back of my throat. “God yes. Don’t stop,” he groans. “Just like that.” His need takes over, and as he spews a string of curse words, he holds me immobile, his plump head pumping between my tonsils.

  I gag with each thrust, but I close my eyes and take it all, determined to send him higher than he’s ever been. I want to be his everything—the beginning of his happiness and the end of his tortured broken pieces.

  I want to be his destiny, his downfall, and his utter defeat by the power between my lips.

  “Baby, I’m gonna...” he trails off with a shudder, and my core pulses at the sound of his throaty moans, the strength in his hands, the way he takes the power from me while surrendering his own.

  And surrender, he does. I peek up in time to watch him arch his neck, lips spread over clenched teeth as he spurts his release down my throat. I’ve barely finished swallowing when he yanks me up by the hair and devours my mouth, and the passion between us burns hot enough to melt every snow peak on earth.

  12

  We spend Saturday curled up in front of the fire, kissing and cuddling and talking. He even listens to my voice drone on as I read from the latest shifter romance I found packed among my things in the overnight bag Ford snuck to Sebastian.

  Ford knows how to surprise a girl. So does Sebastian, because coming to the cottage was his idea. And it was a wonderful idea—the best surprise I could have hoped for—and yet despite the downtime, I can’t help but sense something simmering between us. Something secretive and unspoken. Something we touched on the last time we saw each other but haven’t worked through yet.

  As usual, time isn’t on our side.

  Day turns to evening, and as we wash the dishes after dinner, standing next to each other in front of the sink, I think about how to broach the issue.

  “You’ve got something on your mind, princess.” It’s not a question. His mouth slopes into a frown, and he dries his hands on a dish towel before sitting me down in a chair. “What’s going on?” he asks, crouching in front of me.

  “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Know me so well.”

  He arches a brow. “Not only do you wear your feelings on your face, but I’ve been inside of you.” He cups my cheek. “They don’t call it becoming one body for nothing. I’m attuned to you now.”

  “I think you’ve always been attuned to me.”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “You didn’t…want me like that last night.” After our frantic session on the sofa, he fed me dinner and held me all night in bed, but he didn’t initiate what I wanted more than anything…

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8