“Yes.” I don’t want him to retreat, though, so I turn and kiss his neck. His pulse thunders beneath my lips.
“I’m fine,” he says. His hand smooths up my back, and finding the hem of my T-shirt, slips inside of it. It’s warm as it strokes up my spine. “I’m fine.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He kicks off the sheets and shifts my hips against his, to where I learn that Victor St. Clair sleeps naked. “No.”
I lift my head and kiss him. The racing of my heart turns into something else, and trapped against my stomach, he grows long and hard. He doesn’t want to talk about it, all right. His free hand curves up my thigh to the elastic of my panties and tugs them down.
He turns me onto my back and I arch mine, letting him peel the T-shirt off. A strong hand tugs at my nipple. The raw need he’s exuding has me more than ready, and he discovers the same thing, fingers teasing between my legs.
We don’t speak as he fits himself against me and pushes inside. I lock my legs around his hips, arms around his neck, and hold him as he speeds toward release. It doesn’t take long. He collapses on top of me with a groan and I close my eyes, gripping him tight in every possible way.
His weight feels delicious and even sweaty he smells good, of man and soap and Victor. He kisses the spot right beneath my ear, pressing his lips to my skin for so long that it feels like an apology for the frenzied, hurried sex.Sorry.
I run my hand up his muscled back.Forgiven.
I don’t return to my own bed that night, instead remaining curled up in his arms, and we both drift off to sleep.
21
Victor
“I can’t believe it,” she says. “I mean, I know we haven’t signed anything yet, but still. I can’t believe it!”
“You’d better start.”
“But I mean—oh, thank you so much, Steven. Have a great evening.”
My driver tips his head in Cecilia’s direction, a faint smile on his lips. “You too, ma’am.”
“Goodnight,” I tell him. He nods and closes the car door behind us. I wrap my arm around Cecilia’s waist. She’s wearing heels, and even if they aren’t that high, the leaves on the sidewalk can be treacherous.
She leans into my touch. “I know you’d rather it be you, but… I hope you understand why I have to accept Carter’s offer.”
“I understand,” I say, and I mean it. While I’d rather it be me she’s coming to for money as well as guidance, she wants to stand on her own legs. Keep what distance she can between us. Her company will last longer than a year… and our marriage won’t.
The happiness in her voice is enchanting.
“He said you pitched to him,” I say. Unwelcome jealousy burns in my chest. It has no place here. It’s me she’s going home to. Hell, it’s my rings she’s wearing on her finger.
She nods. “I did, right after dinner. Rather unprofessional, perhaps, at a party.”
“It was just a quiet dinner at Tristan’s. Business makes sense.”
“Carter said my start-up sounded exactly like the thing he’s been looking for.”
I press the button for the elevator, my arm still around her waist. “Carter’s good at what he does.” I can hear the obvious reluctance in my voice.
“I have a business! I have an investor! Oh, I can’t believe this is happening. I’ll soon have a launch date. Within a few months, I might have clients. Can you believe this?” She shakes her head, dark curls flying. Her eyes are lined with elegant sweeps of makeup, but it doesn’t take away from her natural beauty. It just makes her more striking.
I tip her head back and kiss smiling lips. She tastes sweet, like white wine and elation.
“Sorry,” she says. “I’ve been bragging.”
Stupid, endearing humbleness. I grab her hand and lead her into our apartment, straight to the hidden wine cooler in the kitchen.
“Bragging,” I say, opening the door. Bottles of champagne stare back at me. “Do you remember where you put the saber we got as a wedding gift?”