At Any Price (Gaming The System) (16 page)

The guy to my right was a financier and he spent the entire meal chatting up the lawyer across from me. I sat in silence and picked at my food, wondering where tonight would lead. Without the yacht, we wouldn’t be able to go out to the twelve-mile mark, where, in international waters, we would no longer be subject to the law of the land. We sure as hell wouldn’t be making that trip in the Duffy Boat, which was designed for tootling around the harbor.

So, then what? Were we halted again? In irritation, I glanced at Adam, whose head tilted toward Lindsay, listening to something she was saying but looking bored beyond words. He glanced down the table and our gazes met. I froze and he smiled and winked, before looking away.

The guests stayed only an hour after dinner—they were on their way to a concert at the Performing Arts Center in Costa Mesa. Lindsay and her husband were the last to go and again I got that cold once-over from her. It was beyond awkward. Her behavior was possessive. I wanted to tell her not to feel threatened. One fuck and it would be over with Adam. She had nothing to worry about. But curiously, I was having a harder time getting over the irritation I was feeling, both at her presumption with him and his open acceptance of it. Maybe they were friends like I was with Heath. But I just didn’t get that sense from them.

She touched him like she had done it a thousand times before. Like she knew him intimately. Like a lover.

And surprisingly that brought my claws out. It was beyond stupid of me to feel that way, but I was like a guard dog with hackles up every time I saw her mouth go near his ear to whisper something funny.

But to my relief, everyone was gone before eight o’clock. Adam asked me if I wanted something to drink and poured some mineral water for himself and a glass of chilled Pinot Grigio for me.

“Let’s go down to the beach,” he said with a smile.

And how could I resist? There were plush, padded lounge chairs and a cabinet with towels and blankets. He set the glasses on a low table between two lounges and grabbed fleece blankets. He had the complete setup, including a propane heater—the big industrial kind they put out on restaurant patios. It wasn’t quite chilly enough that evening to turn it on.

After the yard lights were dimmed, we sat on our lounges. I gazed out over the bay watching the golden lights dance on the water’s surface. It was just after sunset and the sky was an otherworldly shade of lavender reflected in the waters of the bay as dusk dropped quickly, like it always did close to the coast. Boats returned from the ocean, their running lights flickering across the water. The distant sounds of a party drifted from one of the neighboring houses on Bay Island.

I glanced over at Adam, who had his phone out, reading e-mail and occasionally replying. I sipped at my wine and burrowed under the blanket watching him. It wasn’t freezing but, like every spring night in Southern California, though the days were temperate, the nights got chilly once the sun went down, especially on the beach.

Without looking up from his work he asked, “Warm enough? You want the heater on?”

“No,” I said, getting up from the lounge. “I have a better idea to keep warm.”

I picked up my blanket walked over to his lounge, and plunked down beside him. With surprise he gazed up at me, then scooted, putting his legs down, one on either side of the lounge and indicated that I should sit between them, which I did, laying back against him.

At first I got that same feeling of weird stiffness—like he didn’t know what to do. Clearly Adam wasn’t a natural cuddler. But
I
was. I’d grown up in an affectionate family. And I had no idea why I needed to connect to him. Hell, I cuddled with Heath sometimes, when he tolerated it. It was just who I was. But the sense I got from Adam was more hesitant than reluctant, as if he didn’t know how to handle it rather than being repulsed by it.

Adam finished his latest text and set his phone aside. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and slowly he hitched his arms around me, pulling me fast against him. We sat in silence for many long moments as the night darkened around us. My blood pounded in my throat, an exquisite tension building at the center of my being. It felt so good, just sitting here.

“How’s work? All disasters averted?”

“The old disasters are swept aside by the new ones, as usual,” he said.

“One of your guests said something tonight that I found remarkable.”

“What was that?”

“I hope he was joking, but he said something about hardly believing you had a chance to enjoy your gorgeous home when you work a hundred-hour week as your norm.”

“A hundred hours? That’s a bit of an exaggeration.” Amusement tinged his voice.

“But not much, I’d wager, because he also said you regularly sleep at your office.”

He paused. “I’ve never pushed any employee harder than I push myself. If they’re doing seventy-hour weeks, then I’ll do ninety.”

I angled my head to look up at him. “But why have all this, then, if you can’t enjoy it?”

“Who says I don’t? Besides, Miss Doctor, I don’t think you’ll soon be a stranger to ninety-hour workweeks yourself.”

I shrugged. “I guess I’ve been preparing myself for it. Probably why I’ve never bothered with a personal life.”

“You and I have that in common, then.”

I sighed and settled back against him. The phone chirped. Adam picked it up. He typed one-handed while holding me with the other.

“Don’t you ever turn that thing off?”

I could almost hear him smile. “Never.”

“If I asked you to turn it off now, would you?”

He paused and set down the phone. “If you gave me enough of an incentive.”

I smiled. “I’m sure I could think of something.”

He brought a hand to my hair. “I like your hair up. But it’s much prettier down.”

“If you take the pins out now, it will still stay in its same shape, I’m afraid. My landlady did it and she loves a good bottle of hairspray.”

“Hairspray or rubber cement?” he laughed.

“Yeah, it’s going to hurt like a bitch to brush it out.”

He paused for a moment. “I hope you didn’t put it up because you thought you had to.”

I shrugged, prepared to let him think that was the reason I’d put my hair up—and not because I’d wanted to keep his hands well away from my hair. I did
not
want a repeat of the balcony freak-out in Amsterdam. I took a deep breath. “I know it’s silly, but I really did want to impress your friends. I don’t think I did.”

“On the contrary, I think several of them were quite taken with you.”

I couldn’t resist. I had to say it. “I don’t think Lindsay Walker was.”

A pause. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” But I couldn’t tell what that meant—whether he meant I shouldn’t bother because I’d soon be out of his life or that Lindsay’s opinion wasn’t worth worrying about. I decided not to ask.

“So…” I said hesitating. “With no yacht here, I guess that puts a damper on our evening.”

His head dipped down, his mouth very close to my neck. “You smell amazing,” he said. Urgent need raced through me with those hoarsely uttered words. I turned my face toward his, tilting my head back so I could look him in the eyes out of the corner of mine. His stare pinned me down and I licked my lips. I wanted him to kiss me again.

But he tilted his head away, settling back against the lounge. After a long moment, he kissed my hair, just below my temple, then lowered his mouth to my ear. When he spoke, his breath caressed me, sending frissons of desire down every nerve ending. “We can’t be together tonight.”

But I wanted it, and judging from the bulge of his arousal pressing into the small of my back, he wanted it too. I angled my head to bare my neck without saying a word. His mouth sank to my nape, kissing me there. I gasped at the shock of pleasure that touch evoked. Every cell on my skin came alive as my body readied itself for him. It wouldn’t be tonight, but my body didn’t know any better. It wanted what it wanted. And that evening I was right there along with it for the ride.

And the phone chirped again. I tensed. He didn’t pull his mouth away from my neck, but damned if he didn’t pick that wretched thing up and look at it again. He sent off a quick reply and when he put it down, I locked my hand over his. “Turn it the fuck off,” I groaned as he sucked at my neck.

“Are you willing to make it worth my while?” he breathed.

His hands slid down my shoulders, slipping over my dress to cup my breasts, rubbing his palms over the ready nipples again and again until I wanted to scream with pent-up frustration.

I moaned, my eyes squeezing tight, losing myself in the sensation. “Yes,” I murmured. His hands glided into my bodice, under my dress, and he rolled my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. My body glowed hot as if on fire. I arched my back against him. God, his hands were magic on my body.

The fucking chime went off again. I stiffened and he hesitated. Would he pick it up again? It was almost nine o’clock on a Friday night, for God’s sake. Couldn’t it wait?

He reached for the phone but instead of answering the text, he clicked the red button and the phone obediently powered down.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice gruff, husky.

“I want
you.
”

That seemed to cause something in him to snap because suddenly he flipped me in his arms and we were facing each other. I straddled him as his mouth pressed to mine in a ferocious kiss. His hand wandered up my skirt. Between kisses, his dark eyes glittered in the low light. “Oh Emilia, I want you, too.”

Our mouths came together again in tangled abandon and his hand caressed my inner thigh, higher and higher until it rested atop my panties. When he stroked me there, my mind seemed to unhinge for a moment and everything swirled around me.

“Soaking wet,” he said in a hoarse voice and without another word, a finger hooked up over the hip of my underwear and he yanked. The delicate lace shredded and the panties were off. My level of arousal shot through the roof. I suddenly imagined him tearing off my dress in the same manner, laying me down underneath him on the sand—

“Fuck. You are making it impossible to resist you,” he said.

He lowered his head and his mouth landed on my nipple, suckling at it through the thin fabric of the dress before pulling it aside with growl and landing on bare skin. I arched into him again. The bulge of his erection pressed against my thigh and his hand was beginning to do wicked things to me.

His thumb stroked softly against the most sensitive parts of my flesh. I couldn’t breathe for the longest moment, everything in me tensing.

“Deep breaths, Emilia, enjoy this.”

And I did breathe in deeply as he increased the pressure against the bundle of nerves, each touch sending shocks of pure pleasure to every corner of my awareness. My head crushed against his shoulder and I let out a long, low moan. His mouth descended on my neck. “I’m going to make you come.”

“Yes,” I agreed. And it wouldn’t be long, as far as I could tell.

And he stopped rubbing just long enough to slip a finger inside of me. First tentatively, and then deeper. Then he slid it in and out while I gasped in the rhythm his hand had set.

I was so close. So close. And delirious with pleasure as I was, I hardly had time to realize where his hand was or whether or not I should be embarrassed or self-conscious. “I’m going to come,” I finally said.

He did not reply, speeding up the rhythm of his touch. It was just enough to push me up and over the top. I threw my head back and gasped, feeling the convulsions of release wash over me like raindrops in a high desert storm.

But he continued stroking and stroking against my too-sensitive flesh. “I’m going to do it again. And you are going to say my name. And if you don’t, I’ll keep doing it until you do.”

The pleasure was so intense it almost hurt. I tried to push him away. “No, it’s too much.”

“You’re going to come and my name is going to be on your lips,” he uttered fiercely against my ear. “Come on, Emilia.”

And it was building again and lord, I couldn’t believe it but I wanted it so badly—again. I never knew it could happen again so fast.

But I was still resisting him and his hand, my body stiffening. He pressed his mouth to my ear. “Surrender to me,” he commanded as he entered me once again, his finger sliding into me—and then there were two fingers and I fell slack against him, deciding, ultimately, to allow myself to go where he would take me.

“You’re so tight,” he muttered. “So innocent.”

And I was close again, biting into his jacket at the shoulder to keep from screaming. “Come for me, Emilia.”

And it was so intense—so much more intense. The previous orgasm—as good as it was—was nothing to this one that was approaching like a monstrous wave from far offshore, about to crash down on the rocks. I could barely remember my own name, let alone his, as he pushed me toward a higher climax than I’d ever known.

“Oh God,” I said.

“I’m good but I’m not that good.”

“Adam—” I panted.

“Better,” he whispered. “Say it again.”

“Please.”

“Again, Emilia.”

“Adam. Adam. Adam.” And just as I felt the crest of release take hold, he lowered his head and sank his teeth into my earlobe, the pleasure and small, sharp pain clashing with each other.

I fell against his chest, panting. It was several minutes before I remembered where I was or even who I was. There was nothing but an aching, haunting bliss and the feel of his chest rising and falling under me—very quickly with each rushed breath. He was very turned on and I wondered why he’d done this in the first place—why he’d started this when he knew he wouldn’t be able to finish it for himself—at least not tonight.

Or maybe he could. I stroked my hand along the rigid line of his erection, easily discernible from base to tip. He stayed my hand, hesitating.

An almost involuntary groan escaped his lips. “No,” he breathed. “Tomorrow morning I’ll have the boat back. We’ll spend the afternoon out, have lunch, go swimming, make a day of it. You can stay the night there.”

I looked at him, the question in my eyes. “I can wait, Emilia. You’re worth waiting for.”