Intensity Page 10

  He grabbed each side of my head and tilted it up to him. “Serena, open it already.” Not letting me guess anymore, he lifted my hand and plunked it onto the bow, crushing it. “What’s the matter, you don’t like surprises?”

  Ha, if he only knew. I’d had more than my share. Just not enough of the good kind.

  Seated next to me, he seemed more eager than a kid on Christmas morning. His body pressed against mine, buzzing like a live wire. The excitement got to me too, and I whipped off the ribbon and flung open the lid. Tissue paper thrown aside, I revealed the contents.

  The silk, jade-green robe had a luxurious appearance, and the fabric was softer than any other I’d felt. When I glanced up, his scrunched brow and tight lips portrayed a side I hadn’t seen on him often. “It’s beautiful.”

  At my acknowledgement, a full-wattage smile transformed his face from intense to adorable in the blink of an eye. He took the gift from my hands and turned it around to the back. A variegated gold and orange dragon was embroidered on it, stretching from top to bottom. Fire shooting from its large-toothed mouth and red flames swirling along each shoulder. A bold, imposing figure balancing on a crystal ball that had a familiar quote with the identical Welsh characters stitched inside.

  I skimmed my fingers over the stunning design. “You had that made…for me?”

  “Try it on.” He coaxed me over to a full-length mirror in my closet. While he stood behind me, he adjusted it on my shoulders and spun me around.

  His bright, beaming face projected such awe, it caused my heart to lodge in my throat, making my voice wobbly. “Thank you.” Clearing it, my bolder and unwavering gratitude showed my appreciation. “I love it.”

  “You sure? Liza will take it back.” His hand took hold of mine, a gentle squeeze punctuating the claim with reassurance.

  I chuckled and his brows scrunched. “My tattoo’s on it. Who would want it?”

  He wrapped his large arms around me, announcing, “She’d make you something else if I asked.” Sure his request would be followed without a doubt.

  I laid my head on his shoulder and basked in the moment. Unbelievable, the first man to enter my life owned an escort business. His kindness and generosity contrasted with the continued distance he placed between us, and made this whole situation surreal.

  What was fate trying to tell me by throwing us together? It would be so easy to fall for him. Unable to predict the future, I couldn’t determine how it would play out, but something told me to keep trying. To be patient.

  He stepped away and glanced at his watch. “I have to go. I’ll be back…later.”

  An internal sigh rumbled in my gut. Almost midnight, it didn’t take much to figure out where he might be headed. Another reality check. The message loud and clear—booty-call.

  Mylaynee sent me a text, saying she bought me a dress and wanted me to wear it tonight. The signature gold Forté garment bag couldn’t be missed. I unzipped it and almost fell on the floor at the stunning, red-braided dress. It reminded me of the one I considered buying for the “interview,” but instead decided on the white crochet. There wouldn’t be a virginal appearance this time. Lethal—more like it. I slipped it on and turned to the full-length mirror. That girl was totally trying to get me laid—gotta love her!

  The length hit about a centimeter below my crotch, and my boobs sported a definite increase by a cup or two, plumped up and screaming, suck me, baby. It might be a bad idea to wear this with sex-crazed men everywhere, but I felt wicked tonight. I threw on a pair of stilettos—bam!

  Eat your heart out. Who’s the bombshell now?

  I turned the key, locking my door just as Jax came out from across the hall with a plastered, someone-got-lucky grin. Huh, looked like B.B. struck again. Or maybe Tanya. Heck, with him, it could be both.

  Me + this dress = Did. Not. Care.

  “Hello, Serena,” he greeted with a sickening, tantalizing sex voice, still reeling from the after effects of his adventure no doubt.

  Avoidance my best weapon at the moment, I spoke to the empty hallway in front of me and dashed toward the elevator. “Jax.” I glanced back. Crap, right on my tail, his eyes glued to my ass.

  Message to brain—do not let Mylaynee pick out your clothes.

  I rammed the up button at least five times, yet it hadn’t produced the easy out I’d hoped for. Instead it got me a chest glued to my back, with nowhere to escape. I turned around. “Going up?” I said, trying a lame diversion tactic and pretty much at a loss when it came to this guy. Linc wanted me to stay away, but it wasn’t easy when he lurked around, hunting for his next conquest.

  The rules must not apply to B.B. or Jax, because client “meetings” were supposed to take place in private rooms on the top floor, yet there he stood, so obvious he just had sex. A sweaty scent rolled off him in waves.

  He reached up and twirled a strand of my hair around his finger.

  “Don’t,” I reprimanded in my best authoritarian strict voice.

  He dropped his hand, and his smooth, dreamy face morphed to stiff and calculating. “I saw you jogging the other day. How about I come with you some time?” Emphasis on the act he wanted caused my spine to snap ramrod straight. His musky scent choking me. I stepped to the side and as far away as I could get in the corner he had me pinned in.

  Time to nip this in the bud and send him on his way. “Jax, there are plenty of girls here that would be happy to spend time with you. I’m not one of them.” Well executed, if I didn’t say so myself. Firm and to the point.

  “Why not?”

  Dang, maybe I patted myself on the back too soon. “I’m exclusive.” That should do it.

  “For how long?” The immediate reply and smugness hit their mark, serving as a hard reminder of the temporary state of my job and status here. My frown contorted to a scowl. Every one of my muscles wound tight—numb—kept me from returning a witty comeback. Jax and B.B.’s warnings ping-ponged in my brain, stabbing me in the heart over and over.

  “It’s time for a change,” he declared in a confident tone, entering the elevator I hadn’t even noticed had arrived. “Going up?” He repeated my earlier question in a sugary tone that grated on my every nerve.

  I shook my head no.

  The door slammed shut in my disheartened face, and sealed a whole lot more.

  Drinks served to one nameless face after another, the time passed without remembering a single moment. No, that wasn’t right. I remembered something or someone.

  Jax had been there all night but kept his distance. The women were all over him. You’d think it would’ve kept him distracted, but any time I glanced up, he always had those darn Husky dog eyes on me. His presence was hell on my nerves, and his famous last words insisting “changes” were imminent put me in a tailspin.

  Linc had been there too, off doing his job. He strutted around talking with one client or another, oblivious to my inner turmoil. It didn’t make the night any better. At one point he came over and told me to meet him at his apartment when I finished. Stuck with my head way up my ass, I agreed.

  As the evening went on, I watched him stroll about like he hadn’t a care in the world. One beautiful woman after another stalked, caroused, and trailed him. He smirked and carried on a conversation without any regard to my feelings.

  That flipped the switch—all-the-way-up.

  My hand raised and ready to knock, the door flew open.

  Mr. Heartbreaker stood there, as fine as ever in his custom-made suit.

  “Get your ass in here,” Linc roared.

  Mr. Wrong-night-for-that! Microburst Serena swooshed in, twisting out of control and facing him head on.

  He slammed the door and had the nerve to scowl at me. “What the hell is your problem?” His question reverberated as if he shouted it through a megaphone held right against my ear.

  Tsk. Tsk. Wrong again.

  My jerky arms whipped about, flapping up and down at my sides in blind and crazed misdirection. I stomped up to the hu
lking giant and stuck my finger like a well-honed pointer right at his heart.

  “One.” Stab, punctuating each word as I yelled them.

  “You.” Stab.

  “Two” Stab.

  “B.B.” Stab.

  “Three.” Stab.

  “Sundays.” Stab.

  With a parting flick to his chin, I whirled to the other side of the room, wrapped my arms around my aching stomach, and glared at the blurry harbor as tears flooded my eyes. Pent-up frustration never turned out well, often resulting in epic explosions. My temple pressed to the cool window, I waited for his reaction. An eerie silence engulfed the room, and it dawned on me that my uncontrolled rant might have dire consequences. He’d fire me for sure.

  Clanking glass caused my high-strung body to jerk, slamming my shoulder into the wall. I whipped around and caught Mr. I’ll-Just-Have-a-Casual-Drink, standing behind a bar in the corner. His silence and indifference as he sipped from the glass ratcheted another fire in my belly. Not missing a beat, his intense scrutiny remained in a standoff with my obvious fury.

  “What do you want from me?” His response rolled over me and sweltered.

  “I could ask you the same thing—sleep next to me every night—naked—not good enough for you—sex tease.”

  He slammed back two more shots before he countered, “What’s your real question, Serena?”

  Damn, his sarcastic remark and the tension brewing for so long over-circuited my brain, blowing my fuse. My live-wired, zapping heart charged in, taking over my mouth.

  “Do you have feelings for me, Linc? Feel anything at all?

  “You know what? Cra-zy! That’s what I am.” I yelled, shaking my head. “I should leave you, this place. Life out there…” I pointed toward the window. “Smacked me down lots, but at least I didn’t have to see it, smell it, taste it every-freaking-day. I could turn a blind eye or bury my head under the covers, but not here.” My arm flung around the room like some lunatic racing to catch a fleeing cab.

  The glass perched at his lips slipped from his hand during my tirade. Brownish liquid splashed everywhere, the tumbler bounced off the bar and onto the wood floor, sounding like golf ball-sized hail raining down.

  He stalked across the room, halting a mere inch from me.

  My breath seized at the heated look on his face.

  He swept his thumb in a soft brush across my cheek, drifting it along my neck and weaving his hand beneath my hair, holding the back of my head tight. At my hip, his other hand yanked me forward. Lips and teeth clashed together as he dove his tongue in, tossing mine around in a passionate, you’re not going anywhere kiss. His peppermint taste and spicy cologne sucked me in. My hold loosened on his broad shoulders and began a descent. I took my time and let my hands explore each ridge on his chest and abs, drawing it out and ending up way lower. I grabbed his hard and thick shaft and squeezed.

  He tore his mouth away from mine, swept me into his arms, and carried me to his bedroom.

  Sprawled in the center of the comforter, I memorized every move he made. He undressed in slow motion, removing his shoes, socks, dress shirt, and suit pants. I hoped with all my might this would be our moment. Please make love to me, Linc.

  At the foot of the bed, his stark nakedness caused my breath to stop. I wanted each gorgeous part of him captured in my mind and heart, so no details could ever be forgotten. It had been too long since I last saw him nude. Since the second night, when he asked me to undress him.

  One after another, he edged his hands and knees along my body, like a panther marking his path and pursuing his next great hunt. His blazing blue, green, and black eyes studied my deer-in-the-headlights face, heaving chest, clenched hands, and trembling legs.

  He lunged—to my neck—sucking, biting, dragging my flesh and feeding his ravenousness.

  Yes, please, please take me.

  Men shouldn’t have such long hair. It was too tempting. Regardless, I threaded my fingers through the silkiness. A thousand strands fell along my shoulders, gliding over my skin like a masseuse’s fingertips, stroking and caressing. I grabbed his neck and hauled his mouth to mine, devouring the million erotic flavors he embodied.

  In seconds, he removed my miniscule dress, as well as the scraps beneath it, and aligned his hard and soft contrasting body on top of mine. Our moans echoed each other, radiating and trembling along my chest and stomach, and racing down to my scrunching toes. Between my legs, his warm and thick erection excited me so much that my inner sexpot took the lead. I shifted my body downward, positioning my opening above the tip of his shaft, inching my legs wider and wider and wider until—

  He jerked his mouth away, bringing my covert maneuvers to an end.

  “Make love to me.” Hopefully my sincere plea didn’t come across as desperate. Every day it got harder to not have him and to ignore him. My sexy dreams left me frustrated beyond belief.

  His expression turned angelic. He pressed his lips to my temple and in a soft rasp said, “Someday, a special day, you’ll have what you want. Your sweetness joining—” He took a long ragged breath and professed, “You’re pure beauty, Serena. Making love will be something you will never, ever forget. It will steal your breath, your heart, and your soul.”

  There were horrible events that marked a person’s life, never to be forgotten. On some obscure day, the memory would return, a reminder of that pivotal point in time—mind’s cruel joke. Another sensory organism, the heart, joined in the misery. Together they wittily mocked, sending even the strongest individual into a never-ending spiral of doom and gloom. This was one of those instances and would haunt me forever.

  What do you do when a man, who captures the essence of your being, says he doesn’t want you in that way?

  I pushed my face into the crook of his neck and inhaled long and deep. God, this man would be the death of me. My labored breathing wasn’t the result of my nose being smashed against him, it came from humiliating disappointment. Either my virgin status or two-rating on the sexuality scale turned him off. On a daily basis, magnificence surrounded him, and foolishly I let myself forget that. The odd-ball in the mix and an Amazonian toad, my tall athletic frame with oceanic hips just got dumped in the reject pile. There wasn’t any way I could compare to the exquisiteness that inhabited this place. At any time he could hand pick from the cream of the crop.

  Beauty, indeed, was in the eye of the beholder.

  So where did that leave me?

  Yep, right here—between a rock and a hard place—Linc and nowhere to hide.

  What I wouldn’t give for a disappearing cloak or a time machine, giving me a chance to vanish. Since that wouldn’t happen, I made every attempt to perform a sneaky removal from underneath him. I pushed and attempted to dash away, but he grabbed my arm, springing me back to the bed. Seated at the edge, I formulated another escape plan.

  “Serena,” he called, the deep, mellow tone sending shivers along my spine like a sad song.

  I could not look at him.

  The mirror told me what I would see—sympathy for a girl—now a woman who looked—fill in the blank. On any given day it varied, some good, some bad. I didn’t hate myself. My evaluation came from a realistic view. I would always be an average-looking woman. Out in the real world, no problem.

  This time, this place, this man = Not. Good. Enough.

  He wrapped his arms across my bare stomach, holding me still. His hot breath and fiery naked chest engulfed my back, blistering the ice embodying me. Ugh. I closed my eyes, which forced other senses to take over. Accustomed to him, I recognized his Diesel cologne, a scent I liked a lot except right now. It caused my obsessive, washed-up emotions and head to spin. Damn him.

  “Let me get dressed, Linc, please.”

  He must have sensed my desperation or the pain in my voice, because he let go in an instant. I grabbed a shirt from the chair, covering what I could, and ducked into the bathroom.

  I glanced in the mirror and told myself—I will not cry, I will no
t cry.

  Famous last words.

  Feet propped on a lounge chair, I concentrated on the rolling waves and boats far off in the distance. Were they coasting aimlessly or did they have some goal?

  My purpose had been clear: pay off the debt. The progress had been consistent. Flourishing accounting business—check. Nanny job—check. Larger-than-ever paychecks and increasing tips—check.

  The aimless part of my life—Linc.

  His naked body and physical perfection could grace any artists’ canvas. Painting nude forms made complete sense; some deserved the reverence. Even with his clothes on, the erotic images I had of him became a natural occurrence. Like an icon or idol, he got a lot of appreciation and every female lusted after him. I couldn’t blame them. He exemplified a living, breathing sexual fantasy that few, if any, could ignore.

  But—there were flaws too. Invisible to the naked eye and ones he hid well. If a person took the time to watch him closely, they’d see the hairline cracks behind his mask.

  Wounds scattered—internal.

  As much time as I spent examining his every move, I witnessed the haunted look appear, and just as quick, he’d recover, closing me out. Trying to decipher a complex man like Linc required finding a way “in,” past his reserve and cautious lifestyle. The packed lounge evidence of his success and determination, and proof the business was his main priority.

  Every day B.B. reminded me he belonged to her.

  But I wanted him—beyond the physical.

  Circumstances brought us together, and a pesky internal voice told me he’d be worth the risk. Even if my ego took a constant battering. Last night had been a prime example. After my crying jag, I came out of the bathroom exhausted to find Linc tucked into bed, concern etched into lines along his forehead. Nerves shot to hell from his blatant rejection, I climbed under the covers and scrunched myself onto the farthest tippy-edge of the mattress.

  Instead of going to sleep, he embarked on an extensive twenty-questions session, inquiring about my life: growing up, Gram, work, anything and everything. From the day I moved in, he’d asked just one intrusive question—why I quit school. After that, he didn’t pry any further. Perhaps, because he had a lot to protect too and didn’t want to answer in return. A private person myself, I understood that well. Plus the ghosts in my own closet didn’t need to be unearthed.