No strings attached (19 page)

His attention was mind-numbingly gentle, infuriatingly tender, when what Chloe wanted to feel was the
pressure of his body stroking hers. She’d never known the arousal of waiting, of hovering at the edge of completion, of being pulled back and dangled, unmercifully, above orgasm’s precipice. She was used to going for broke.

This was what Eric was showing her, even as he moved the flower down the skin of her inner thighs, from one leg to the other, until he reached her knees. He was showing her pleasure’s torture, how much sweet suffering her body could take. All the sweeter because it was Eric doing the torturing.

When he’d moved the flower from her crotch to her legs, he’d sat back on his heels, so his mouth had never made it beyond the barrier of her panties. But still, he had to know how wet she was already. The damp, musky, sugary scent was strong enough to have reached her own nostrils.

Suddenly, he tossed the choker to the floor, then stood to shuck off his tuxedo pants, leaving them both in nothing but their underwear. Leaving them both open and exposed beneath material meant to cover.

The crotch of her thong was barely wide enough to hide her sex. And Eric’s erection strained at the fly of his long-legged boxers. The material showed a ring of dampness from his early release. Dampness of the same sort soaked into her panties.

He moved forward then, one knee on the bed, then the second, slowly sliding up the comforter and between her legs. He placed his broad palms on either side of her sex, framing her between his index fingers and thumbs.

And then he leaned down and tasted her through the material of her thong. He flicked the tip of his tongue over her entrance, pushed against her hard center of
nerves with his tongue’s flat surface. Chloe clenched her fingers into the comforter, clenched her inner muscles to keep from coming in his mouth.

He slipped one index finger beneath the crotch of her panties on one side and out the other, twisting the material into a rope and exposing her feminine flesh to the air and his eyes. The air was cool, but his breath was hot when he opened his mouth and warmed her with a stream of blown heat. Then he spread open her sex with two of his fingers and inserted his tongue.

Chloe panted, pointed her toes, flexed her thigh muscles and froze. Because Eric wasn’t finished. While he made love to her with his tongue, stroking deep, withdrawing, licking between the folds of her flesh so wildly aroused, he rubbed the twisted rope of her panties back and forth until she thought she would burst.

“Oh, Eric,” she whimpered. “Please.”

“Please what, Chloe?” He lapped at her again, chuckled softly when she shuddered. “You want me to make you come? Is that what you want?”

Her head thrashed on the pillows. “I want you. I want you to fu—I want you to make love to me.”

“Chloe, honey. I am making love to you.” He replaced his tongue with a finger, two fingers, three. He kissed her clitoris, sucked it into his mouth, then made his way up the length of her body to bury his face in the curve where her shoulder met her neck.

She turned her face toward him, kissed his forehead, shivered and seized his hand. “I want to feel you. I want you inside of me.”

Raising one knee, she leaned in toward him, hugging his body with her leg, since she was trapped beneath his weight. Her one free hand she moved down
between their bodies, reaching as far as she could until she touched the waistband of his shorts and the swollen head of his penis stretching the elastic away from his waist.

“This is what I want,” she said, slipping her hand down the length of his shaft, so sleek, so smooth, so incredibly solidly strong. “I want you, Eric. Only you.”

He pulled in a strangled breath and rolled away and off the bed, padding barefoot to the bathroom for a condom. On his way back across the room, he pulled off his boxers. Chloe couldn’t take her eyes from his body, the long length of him, the hard muscles in his thighs, his lightly sculpted chest and the breadth of his shoulders.

Most off all she couldn’t look away from his flatly ribbed abs, his straining penis jutting upward and the sac of his balls drawn tight beneath. Her body wept with wanting him. And then he was there and he was crawling over her between her legs.

When he kissed her, she tasted herself, her salty sweet flavor mingling with his. He reached down and aligned their bodies and, in one smoothly controlled thrust, he filled her.

He filled her and continued to kiss her, moving his tongue in sex play with hers while his lower body pressed forward, pulled back, setting a rhythm that she matched with a measured lift of her hips.

It was the sweetest of matings, the gentlest loving Chloe had ever known. Eric took his time, patiently holding himself in check as Chloe’s fever rose. She dug her fingers into his tight buttocks, pulling him into hard contact when he insisted on a soft touch, urging
him to press forward when he was content with an easy rolling pace.

So when the first jolt spiked through her, she wasn’t prepared. She was used to wildly reaching, not having completion unexpectedly steal her breath. It was the barest of tickles and it had no end. Spasms rolled like waves, one after another, drowning her in liquid sensation until she was gasping and spent.

Eric buried his face in the curve of her shoulder, buried his hands beneath her backside. His thrusts increased in strength and in speed, and Chloe followed him as he climbed toward release. He cried out, the sound muffled by her shoulder. But nothing muffled her sob when she came so suddenly again.

Together their bodies rested, comfortably joined for long, quiet minutes, until Eric rolled away, then drew her close again, working them beneath the bedcovers. Chloe heard his whispered, “I love you,” before she heard his even breathing and his satisfied snore.

She waited for his sleep to deepen before slipping out of his bed. He would be hurt when he woke up alone, and the thought of causing him pain after he’d given her such joy squeezed a tiny moan from her throat.

She froze, but he slept on undisturbed. More than anything in the world she wished she could stay, wished she could show Eric her love in return. But before she could allow herself that luxury, she had to make a break with her past.

If she didn’t, she and Eric had no future.

E
RIC PULLED INTO
the parking lot of Taco Milagro, having driven by on Westheimer and seen Chloe, Deanna and Annabel Lee walking out of the Tex-Mex restaurant.

He wasn’t going to question the coincidence, but he was going to take full advantage.

Since the night he’d made love to her, the night she’d walked out on him, ten days ago now, he’d called Chloe at home and at the office. He’d called more than once. And he’d left messages on her machine, her voice-mail and with her assistant.

He was tired of being blown off when he had something he wanted to say.

He’d told her he wasn’t desperate and, by damn, he was tired of looking like a liar. But her refusal to return his calls didn’t make it easy to look like anything else.

He knew he was out of wishes, but he still had one to make. If she turned him down this time then, yeah, okay. He’d accept that nothing was going to happen between them.

But he had to give it one last shot, had to make one last effort to convince her that he didn’t want to own her. That he didn’t want to run her life. That he didn’t want to mold her into some sick and twisted ideal.

He only wanted to love her and, no matter that she
expected differently, he wasn’t going to say, “Here’s the catch.”

Pulling his Mustang into the parking space three down from Chloe’s VW Beetle, he braked hard and jumped out, needing to get to her before she got to her car. All three women were headed his way. Deanna and Poe probably wouldn’t appreciate the holdup but, hey, they’d get over it.

He walked toward the laughing trio, his long strides eating up the pavement. At Chloe’s carefree smile, at her throaty trill of delight, Eric’s gut knotted. Must be nice to be able to relax, enjoy lunch with friends. Eric had felt ready to snap now for ten days.

Poe caught sight of him before Chloe did; her head was turned to the side as she chatted up Deanna. Poe gestured, looking his way, though she spoke to Chloe from the side of her mouth.

Chloe’s head swung around. Deanna’s followed. The women stopped talking and their steps slowed as he continued to approach at full speed. All four of them wore sunglasses, so he was as blind to Chloe’s expression as she was to his. He was, however, able to see her mouth and her smile freeze in place.

Eric shrugged off the cold. He didn’t care if he was putting her on the spot. He didn’t even care if he did look desperate. Last-ditch efforts often did.

The group came to a stop and Chloe was the first to speak. “Eric. Hey. You remember Poe.”

Eric nodded. “Miss Lee.”

“And this is Deanna Elliott,” Chloe said, inclining her head toward the younger woman. “Our gIRL-gEAR gIRL.”

“Miss Elliott.” Again, Eric nodded. But that was it
for the small talk. He pulled off his Ray Bans. “Chloe, can I speak to you privately?”

“I don’t know, Eric.” Chloe gave a quick glance toward the other two women. “We really do need to get back to the office before Sydn—”

“This won’t take but a minute.” He gave both Deanna and Poe a dismissive look, one he hoped conveyed the apology absent from his tone of voice, then turned back to Chloe. “I can give you a ride back if that will help.”

“Chloe, you stay. I’ll get Deanna to drop me at the office. In fact, I think I’ll put her to work.” Poe linked her arm through the younger woman’s and teasingly tugged her in the other direction. “Now that she’s the proud owner of a high-school diploma, we have to keep her busy. We can’t have her getting any wild slacker ideas.”

Chloe frowned. “Are you sure?”

Deanna giggled, tossing her long dark braid over her shoulder. “Are you kidding? Like your office is so totally the coolest.”

Eric could’ve given the teen a brotherly hug and kissed the dragon lady. Though Chloe now appeared to be the one breathing fire.

She watched the other two women walk off, then turned her flames his way. “You sure know how to put a bad mood on a good time, don’tcha, sugar?”

Eric hung the Ray Ban’s earpiece over his T-shirt’s ribbed neckline. “At least I know how to return phone calls.”

“Oh, now that is a big fat lie.” Chloe stomped off toward her car, digging in her macramé bag for her keys. “I called you fifteen times if I called you once before I ever came to see you at Haydon’s. If you’d
had the courtesy to call me back, we might not be standing here now arguing in a parking lot.”

“I’m not doing any arguing.” Eric crowded in between Chloe’s car and the one beside it, blocking her only easy escape route.

“No? Then what are you doing? Why are you here?” She opened her car door, tossed her bag on the passenger seat, slammed her hands on her hips.

Eric couldn’t believe it. They were right back where they’d started. She was doing her best to break him. And she sure had the ammunition. “I’m here because you wouldn’t call me back. You could’ve saved me the trip and saved yourself the embarrassment of being stalked in a parking lot.”

She stared at him for a minute, though she still wore her sunglasses so he couldn’t see her eyes. Then she turned her head to the side, her gaze sliding away, her lips pressed together in a flat, grim line.

Eric shoved a hand back over his hair. “Chloe, I’m not here to stalk you. Or embarrass you. And I’m sorry if I have.”

She waved him off with one hand. “I’m not embarrassed. And I should have called you back. I know the frustration of waiting on a return call that never comes,” she said, her mouth twisting wryly.

That look gave Eric hope that she wasn’t hell-bent on never speaking to him again. “I thought you were blowing me off. Call me masochistic, but if that’s what you have on your mind, I’d rather be blown in person.”

Her lips quirked and she chuckled at that. “I’m sure you would, sugar. And you deserve better than me leaving you to stew in your own juices. But my not returning your calls is about me. Not about you.”

And if that wasn’t the oldest kiss-off in the book, he didn’t know what was.
Oh, well,
he thought, and shook his head.

“Eric,” she began, reaching out and placing a hand on his forearm. “I know how that sounds. ‘It’s not you. It’s me.’ That’s a crappy thing to do to someone.”

“Glad we agree on that, at least.” Not that he felt any better. What he felt, in fact, was dumped. Stupid for being here. And like a whipped sucker.

Her fingers tightened a minute before she let him go and moved her hand to the car’s open door. She held her jaw tight, as if holding back a mouthful of the wrong words.

Eric put his hands to his hips and watched the late lunch-hour traffic crawl by. “Look, Chloe. If you can’t tell me what you’re thinking, then I don’t need to be here. I thought we were beyond being tongue-tied with each other.”

He started to turn away. She stopped him with a whispered, “Wait.” So he arched a brow and waited.

She took a deep breath. “I’m not giving up. Or throwing away what we have…this thing we have. But I’m not ready to be part of an
us.
Too much of
me
has been stirred up lately, what with Aidan’s visit. And with…you.”

“What about me?”

“You scare me to death, Eric.” Her voice quivered. The car door squeaked as she leaned her weight into it. “You talk about love and make it sound so simple. But I’ve never known it to be anything but complicated. It’s complicated and it’s hard. Your mother abandoned you. My father’s an abusive ass. Even Lauren and Anton can’t get it right.”

She paused, slowly closing the car door and resting her forehead against the curve of the roof. “I’m not even sure I know what love is.”

He could counter every one of her lousy arguments. He had his foster family. She had four brothers. He had a feeling Anton and Lauren weren’t totally kaput. But even if they were, look at Leo and Macy.

And then there were Eric’s own feelings for Chloe. Which he thought he’d made clear. And, yeah. It hurt that she still didn’t get it. So he’d say what he’d come here to say and leave his heart in her hands.

“Chloe, I know our arrangement is a done deal. And I know I used up all three of my wishes. But I have one more to make.” He was going way out on a limb here, but at this point did he really have anything to lose?

Her head still resting on the car, she rolled to the side to see him. “I supposed I can descend from my ivory tower long enough to hear your petition.”

Seeing the smile that touched her face, Eric felt his gut clench. He didn’t think he’d ever loved her more than he did right then. “Haydon’s Hammers have a tournament on Memorial Day. I want you to come.”

She was already shaking her head. “I can’t. Ray’s having a barbecue. I’ve already committed.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to play. Just show up.”

She frowned and stood up straight. “I thought you liked the way I played.”

Eric laughed even though his mood was anything but lighthearted. “I do like the way you play.”

“So, what? You’re looking for your own personal cheerleader?”

“No. I’m looking for someone who plays for
keeps.” She pulled off her sunglasses then, and Eric continued, spitting out what he’d come here to say before those big violet eyes did him in.

“I want to renew our exclusive arrangement. I want this relationship to be a real commitment, Chloe. And this time I want it with all strings attached. If you don’t want the same thing, then don’t show. I’ll take that as your final answer.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Eric turned and walked away, wondering how he was going to make it through the next two days before finding out if he was a winner.

Or the biggest loser since Cary Grant waited on top of the Empire State Building for a woman who never showed.

T
HE SUN GLARED DOWN
on Stratton Park and on Eric’s bare shoulders and bad mood. Haydon’s Hammers were sucking wind, and he was going to end up shelling out for a helluva lot of brew by the end of the day.

He wouldn’t have minded so much losing the tournament or that much beer if he hadn’t felt like he was losing a big part of his future happiness the closer it got to the end of the day.

Chloe hadn’t showed.

A hundred scenarios had run through Eric’s mind. Her Beetle had been squashed on the drive over in the holiday traffic, and she was being scraped off the pavement while he played ball.

She’d gotten stuck flipping burgers or had to make an emergency beer run for Ray…and her Beetle had been squashed in the traffic and she was being scraped off the pavement while Eric played ball.

He knew none of his conjured imaginings were anywhere close to the truth. She’d just decided she liked things better with no strings attached.

He guzzled a paper cup of bright orange sports drink and scrubbed the ball of his drenched T-shirt down the center of his chest. The Memorial Day heat was taking no prisoners.

The park was packed with picnickers—families, couples, teens and kids. Kites soared and baseballs zipped and Frisbees winged across the fields. The smells of burning charcoal and smoked sausage and grilled chicken and burgers would’ve had his stomach growling if he’d had an appetite.

Instead he was growling at anyone who made eye contact. All these shiny, happy people were getting on his nerves. What did they think they were celebrating, anyway, besides a day off from work? He doubted half of them knew what the holiday was about. They didn’t deserve to have fun.

And who made you king of the world, Haydon?
A king needed a queen, and he couldn’t even convince a princess to come to a volleyball game. And, hell. Who needed a princess, anyway?

All that ivory tower wall scaling cost a man too much time and effort, made him old before his time. And put a big damper on his fun with the damsels.

Good thing his princess had showed her true colors before his armor got too rusty. Now he was free to rescue at will. Since he would obviously never learn his lesson…

“Damn it, Chloe. You’re not a quitter. I can’t believe you’re giving this up.” He muttered the words under his breath. And, yeah. He had to admit it. Hear
ing them spoken aloud, even in his own rough and raspy voice, made them real.

Real enough to accept. Hands planted at his hips, T-shirt caught in one, he hung his head and faced facts. He’d had an affair to remember, but it was over. Finished. Kaput.

He’d do better with an overgrown mixed-breed, big-footed mutt. Unconditional love would go a long way toward healing the wreck of his heart.

“Yo, Haydon. Let’s go.”

“Gimme a sec.” He jogged to his car, tossed his T-shirt onto the floorboard and dug in his gym bag for another. Then he went to play the game.

Not quite as satisfying as playing for keeps, but he’d live. Yeah. He’d live.

“R
ESIGN
? What are you talking about, resign?”

“You can’t resign! You’re a partner.”

“You
are
gRAFFITI gIRL. No one else can take your place.”

“This is insane, Chloe. You’re one of the original girls.”

“It might not be insane, but it’s certainly not cosmically sound. Chloe, have you really thought this through?”

Wearing a skinny black skirt, plus a shell and cardigan of pale pink cashmere, Chloe sat at the conference table, legs crossed, foot swinging, hands laced in her lap, waiting for the shock to wear off, the objections to die down.

She’d delayed making her announcement until the end of the partners’ brainstorming session, thinking it the perfect time to present her proposal, knowing the five female brains in the room would be in rare form.

And now that the uproar had settled and stunned silence had descended, she glanced around the table at the faces looking at her as if she’d lost her mind. Which, truth be told, was not out of the question.

Macy, the wild child. Lauren, the ethereal willow. Kinsey, the bohemian mystic. Melanie, the technical wizard. Sydney, the classic beauty.

All Chloe could do was smile and count her blessings. Joyful tears pricked her eyes and, with a tremulous sigh, she said, “Do you know how much I love all of you? How much I owe all of you?”