The Weekend Page 9

  ‘That’s it,’ he groans, leaning down and licking the inner curve of my breast. ‘Let me feel this perfect little cunt coming all over me, Em.’

  The orgasm goes on and on in a bliss-soaked forever, until I finally sink into the feather-filled duvet in exhaustion, my body boneless and my throat raw from my cries of pleasure. Still softly panting, I finally manage to blink my eyes open just in time to watch Jase pull his glistening fingers from my body and slip them inside his mouth. His molten gaze locks hard with mine as he growls and sucks them clean, his nostrils flaring, and I have never in my life seen anything so wildly erotic.

  He doesn’t need to say anything as he pulls his fingers from between his lips, because I can tell from the way he’s looking at me that he likes the way I taste. Okay . . . maybe more than likes it. I know I need to thank him or something, because that was freaking awesome, but I can’t get a single word out before his mouth is back on mine. I hold on to his broad, muscular shoulders and kiss him back like my life depends on it, and I can taste myself on his tongue, salty and sweet – which, let’s face it, is just hot. The kiss deepens, getting steamier and wetter, until a loud burst of laughter and voices comes from out in the hallway, and I gasp as he pulls away.

  ‘We’d better finish getting ready,’ he scrapes out, looking like that’s actually the last thing in the world he wants to be doing as he straightens to his full height and offers me the same hand that’s just been inside me, helping me up.

  ‘Um, yeah,’ I whisper, and I’m grateful that my legs are able to support me as I somehow make my way over to the wardrobe, grab my dress, snatch my make-up bag off the dressing table, and slip into the bathroom.

  When I stare into the mirror over the sink, I realize I no longer look like the awkward student trying to hide from the world. Instead, there’s a flushed, bright-eyed woman gazing back at me. She appears a little dazed, and a whole lot satisfied. And, if I’m going for the honesty thing again, she seems . . . happy. But she’s also torn, because I caught the way Jase was looking at me – in the mirror over the dressing table – when I turned to walk away from him, and it was clear that the guy’s in a world of discomfort. So even though he told me not to worry about his dick, it’s impossible not to. Especially after he’s been so freaking generous with me, making me come harder than I’d even thought was possible.

  He does a double take when I exit the bathroom wearing another classic throwback to the fifties, only this dress is in pink satin with a black lace overlay and a scooped neckline, and I can feel the physical heat of his stare as I slip on the amazing black Jimmy Choo heels that were delivered with it.

  ‘Jesus, Em. You look beautiful.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I smile and say, ‘You do too.’ He’s slipped on a tie in a slightly darker shade of blue than the shirt I’d nearly destroyed, along with a dark gray waistcoat and jacket, and the effect is striking. He could easily grace the cover of a magazine, and I’m glad that I took a few extra minutes to redo my hair and freshen my make-up. I even spritzed on some of my favorite perfume, which I rarely do, since it’s pricey and I live on a fairly tight budget.

  We’re both quiet as we make our way downstairs, a little lost in our heads, but it isn’t uncomfortable. If anything, the sexual tension is thicker than ever between us – but there’s an easiness there as well, as if we’ve somehow started to become friends.

  Tonight, we’re at a table with Callan and a few married couples whom Jase seems to know through his business dealings, without an ex in sight. Caroline was either so appalled by the way we made our own seating arrangements last night to bother being a bitch, or Jase found a way to ensure that she didn’t screw with us again. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful for the ease with which we get through the meal, as Callan keeps everyone entertained with hilarious stories about his family back in New York, though for the most part it all goes by in a blur. I’m not even sure I could tell you what exactly we had to eat, because there’s a roar in my ears like the ocean surf, and I’m flushed, my skin so sensitive even the brush of Jase’s arm against mine has me shivering, like I’ve been switched on to my highest setting.

  When the dessert plates are cleared away, and everyone at our table is either hitting the dance floor set up in an adjoining room or gathering around the open bar, Jase leans over and murmurs something in my ear, and I blink as I run my tongue over my lower lip, sure that I’ve misheard him. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.’

  Instead of repeating what he said, he eyes my mouth like he wants to own it, and then slowly lifts his hooded gaze back to mine. ‘It’s fucking hot as hell when you lick your lip like that.’

  I try to cover how flustered I am with a smirk. ‘You think everything is hot.’

  ‘When it comes to you,’ he rasps, ‘it would seem so.’

  I’m saved from having to come up with a response because Callan returns to the table with a soda for Jase, a bottle of beer for himself, and a glass of white wine for me – and he and Jase start talking about some new type of motorcycle that Callan plans on buying when he gets home. Since motorcycles terrify me, I spend the time sipping my wine and watching Lottie, worried for her. Oliver is nowhere in sight again, and for the hundredth time since meeting those two, I’m wondering what the hell she’s doing here.

  When the melodic notes of a new song begin, Jase suddenly pushes back from the table and moves to his feet. Holding out his hand, he repeats what I thought I’d heard him say before. ‘Dance with me.’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know how.’ I mean, sure, I can dance in a club. But this is slow dancing to lovely music being performed by what sounds like a small orchestra.

  ‘I’ll do all the work,’ he assures me, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. ‘All you’ll have to do is hold on.’

  As I follow him into the other room, I want to tell him that I’ll hold on all night long – even when he’s fucking my brains out – but the words are locked in my throat, some last piece of emotional armor keeping them hostage.

  Seconds later I’m in his arms, and true to his word, all I have to do is follow his lead. He holds me so close I swear I can feel the pounding of his heart against mine, and as he stares down into my upturned face, his eyes are so heavy that the blue is just a sliver of stormy sky, and I can’t look away. I’m falling into those sky-colored depths like a body sinking into the ocean, slipping deeper beneath the waves, and I don’t try nearly as hard as I should to swim for the surface – because I’m no longer sure it’s where I want to be. I’m all chaos and nerves and churning confusion, my own heart hammering so hard that it hurts.

  Any minute now, we’re going to walk off this dance floor, go back upstairs, and I honestly don’t know which side will win in the battle between my body and my mind. I guess it all depends whose side my heart decides to take, and just as I’m frantically trying to reach the right decision, I’m saved by the bell.

  Well, by a gorgeous beast of a man from New York City.

  Callan’s face is grim as he steps up to us right in the middle of the crowded dance floor. ‘Jase,’ he says quietly, ‘we’ve got a problem.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Jase asks, as soon as we’ve made our way through the other dancing couples and reached the side of the room.

  Callan shakes his head. ‘Not here, man. But we need to hurry.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I say, when Jase gives me a concerned look. ‘Go with Callan. I’ll head right up to the room.’

  His dark brows are pulling into a deep frown. ‘You’ll be okay?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I say again, sensing Callan’s urgency.

  Jase cuts a sharp look over at Cameron, who’s just walked into the room, then back at his friend. ‘I’m walking her up. Meet me at the bottom of the stairs. This’ll only take a minute.’

  Instead of wasting more time by arguing, I simply hold his hand as we quickly exit the room, drawing a few stares, but those watching us probably think we’re just desperate to get into each o
ther’s pants, given how closely we’d been dancing.

  ‘What do you think’s happened?’ I ask as we practically run up the staircase.

  ‘I have no clue. But I’m guessing it has something to do with Oliver. He disappeared right after dinner,’ he mutters, making it clear that I hadn’t been the only one to notice his cousin’s absence.

  Jase swiftly opens the door to his bedroom, and he doesn’t even shut it behind us once we’ve gone in. ‘Don’t open the door for anyone. And try to get some sleep. I can let myself in when I come back up.’

  ‘Okay. Just . . . whatever the problem is, be careful.’

  ‘Always.’ His expression is still tense, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his beautiful lips now, and I know it’s because he’s just repeated my response from yesterday morning back to me. He pulls me into his arms and runs the damp heat of his mouth along my jaw, then nips my sensitive earlobe with his teeth. ‘If you’re going to dream tonight,’ he whispers in my ear, ‘it better be about me.’

  Then he walks out, locks the door behind him, and I just stand there in the middle of the quiet room . . . wondering what the hell is going on.

  Chapter Seven

  Sunday morning

  JASE

  I wake when Emmy stirs beside me, and even though I’ve only had a few hours of sleep, I’m instantly charged by the fact that she’s here with me.

  ‘Why is he on top of the covers?’ she quietly asks herself, thinking I’m still asleep.

  ‘Because I didn’t trust myself to get under them with you,’ I reply gruffly, cracking my eyes open. My body instantly tightens, and I blink, unable to believe how gorgeous she looks in the morning.

  ‘Jase, you must be freezing.’

  ‘You cold? Come here,’ I rumble, tugging her closer with a wicked smile. ‘I’ll warm you right up.’

  ‘I tried to wait up for you,’ she tells me in a soft voice, stroking her thumb under my eye, where there’s undoubtedly a shadow. ‘But I must have fallen asleep.’

  ‘It took forever to get things sorted.’

  ‘What happened?’ she asks, that feminine hand now moving into my hair, the gentle touch feeling so good I have to bite back a moan. It suddenly occurs to me that I’ve never shared a moment like this with a woman – but then, I’ve never wanted to. Never wanted to hold any of the women I’ve known in my arms on a sleepy Sunday morning and just look at her, breathing her in, for the sheer pleasure of having her company. Being close to her. Being with her.

  It’s taken only three fucking days for this girl to turn my life on its head, and now I’m reeling. She has her walls and guards, and I’m starting to understand that I have mine too. That I’ve lived my life the way I’ve lived it, surrounding myself with a certain type of people, because I wanted to remain apart. Keep anyone from getting too close.

  Emmy and I are so alike, and I wonder if she even realizes it. If she sees it. If she sees me, or if she still thinks I’m just a jerk and is only waiting for the scoop on Harrison.

  No, she isn’t like that, I tell myself. But I decide, right then, to stop putting off the visit to Elm Manor that I’ve promised her, and to take her there this morning.

  I still haven’t answered her question about last night, and she gives me a worried look. ‘I get that you don’t want to talk about it, but was it bad?’

  ‘Yeah, it was.’ It fucking sucked.

  Her gaze darkens with concern. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I am now,’ I say, reaching up and curling my hand around hers, intending to draw it to my mouth for a kiss. But her eyes go wide the instant she sees my knuckles.

  ‘Ohmygod, you’re not okay!’ she says in a rush, sitting up and pulling my hand toward her for a closer inspection. ‘Your knuckles are all busted up again. What happened?’

  Propping myself up on the pillows, I say, ‘Cameron needs to learn to control his damn mouth.’

  Keeping hold of my hand, she turns so that she’s facing me as she sits cross-legged beneath the fluffy duvet. ‘Why is he like that?’ she asks, while I try to keep my gaze on her face, and not on her beautiful breasts which are currently covered by nothing more than a thin cotton top. ‘I mean, why does he hate you so badly?’

  ‘Honestly? I have no idea. He’s been this way for as long as I can remember.’ I have a few vague memories of playing with Cameron shortly after my mother died, when he came to stay with us, like he did most summers, because his own mother was always traveling around the world with her friends. But then something changed, and we never got along again.

  ‘And Caroline?’ she asks, the morning sunlight streaming through the French doors glinting against the honey-colored waves of her hair.

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ I say, turning over the hand she’s been holding and giving her fingers a gentle squeeze, ‘if you tell me why you hate doctors.’

  She raises her brows. ‘What makes you think I hate doctors?’

  I give her a Come on look. ‘Em, I saw you with Dr Riley. You couldn’t have been more creeped out if I’d told you to stick your hand inside a box of snakes.’

  Frowning, she says, ‘I was that obvious?’

  ‘Yeah, sweetheart. You were.’

  ‘I . . . When I was eight, I got ill with a severe case of pneumonia. I had to be in the hospital for two weeks, and my dad insisted that my mom go on a business trip with him.’ She pauses, pulls her hand from mine to reach up and grab her hair, twisting it as she pulls it over one shoulder, and I realize it’s a nervous gesture as she quietly goes on. ‘There was this doctor who would spend a lot of time in my room. He never . . . he never tried anything with me, but he would ask me these disturbing questions, and watch me in a way that made me so uncomfortable I felt like my skin was crawling with bugs.’

  ‘Did you tell your parents?’ I ask, forcing the words through my gritted teeth.

  She nods her head. ‘Every time they called. Mom was freaked out, but Dad said I was just trying to get attention and to give it up.’ A bitter smile kicks up the corner of her soft, pink lips. ‘He wasn’t about to let me screw up one of his biggest deals of the year.’

  ‘That bloody bastard,’ I rasp, thinking it’s no wonder Emmy has issues about guys with money. From the sound of it, she grew up with a money-hungry dickhead who cared more about his bank balance than his baby girl, and it makes me want to track the tosser down and show him exactly what I think of him.

  Then a thought occurs to me, and I pull my battered hand down my face as I mutter, ‘Shit.’

  ‘What?’

  I force myself to look her in the eye. ‘It kills me that you went through that as a little girl. Fucking kills me, Emmy. And I feel like such a prick for insisting that Riley look you over on Thursday.’

  ‘Hey, you didn’t know,’ she says softly, giving me a tender look. ‘And I’m a grown woman, Jase. I knew I wasn’t in any danger with Riley – and if I had been, I could have handled it.’

  I don’t doubt that for a second, given how brilliantly she’d kneed Cam in the balls.

  ‘So about Caroline,’ she prompts, taking us back to her earlier question, now that she’s answered mine.

  This time I’m the one with the bitter smile. ‘That’s easy. My earliest memory of Caro is her telling me I looked too much like my “dead bitch of a mother” and to stay out of her way. I was seven at the time.’

  ‘Jase,’ she whispers, her face going pale.

  ‘Yeah,’ I sigh, scrubbing my hand over my jaw. ‘She was a classy act from the start.’

  Suddenly Emmy’s leaning forward, one hand braced against the top of the headboard, the other against my shoulder, and her soft lips are brushing over mine. It’s the sweetest, most caring kiss I’ve ever been given, and it ignites something inside me. Some inner fire that I never even knew was there, burning deeper than sexual need or appetite. It’s more brutal than lust, and a thousand times more powerful, and it makes me groan. Makes me fucking shake as I wrap my arms around her and jerk her closer, the da
mn bedding tangled between us.

  For long, blistering moments, I claim every part of her hot, sweet mouth that I can, raking it with my tongue, until it’s too much and I know I have to stop. I pull my head back, breaking the kiss, my hands fisted in her hair, and run my greedy gaze over every inch of her beautiful body. She’s golden from head to toe, like a drop of pure sunshine, and I can’t wait to feel her burn me alive.

  And then there are those thick-lashed, cinnamon-colored eyes, with that dark rim of black around the outer edge. Gorgeous. Mesmerizing. I guess I’m staring into them a little too intently, because her cheeks start to go pink and her breaths are quickening. I’m so damn tempted just to pull her beneath me and keep kissing the hell out of her, but every instinct I possess tells me that’s not the way this should play out, so I leave her kneeling there in the middle of the bed as I roll up to my feet, saying, ‘Come on, babe. We need to hurry if we’re going to make this happen.’

  ‘Make what happen?’ She’s staring at me standing there in my tented boxers like I’m crazy, and I can tell that I’ve shocked her. That she fully expected to get seduced right out of her little pink top and pajama shorts . . . and have my cock buried a mile inside her before we ever left this room again. But as badly as I wish that were happening right now – that I was taking her so hard and deep it burned away the memory of every other guy she’s so much as even kissed – I know I’ve made the right choice. That it’s the only choice I can live with when it comes to this girl.

  If we have sex, and I’m hoping to God that we do, she needs to decide that it’s what she wants before we’re already in bed together.

  She needs to come to me with her eyes wide open – and then I’m going to fuck her so damn hard that we knock Harrison’s bloody painting off the wall.