One Hot Winter Break (Yardley College Chronicles Book 2) (12 page)

I try to walk past Crane, but he braces his arms against the door frame, blocking me. “One kiss. If you still say no, I’ll let you walk out. But you have to expect me to do anything to possess you. You want a house? It’s yours. I’ll put a damn French chateau at your disposal if you want. Limitless credit. A life of sexual decadence. It’s all yours.”

I’m stunned by this. He’s offering all this, just to get me? He’s gorgeous. A billionaire. He could have anyone.

“I’m flattered—”

“No, don’t say that. Say yes. I can give you so much more than Jonathon.”

“I’m sure you can. But I’m already into him. I’m sorry.”

Crane bends to me, letting his warm breath tickle my ear. “One kiss. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Just one kiss. What would it matter? He’d leave me alone after that. But I’m shaking. To do it would be to slip back into what I used to be: a person who devalued her own rights and limits.

“I said no. Let me go.”

The door handle rattles. “Mia, are you in there? What’s going on?”

I glare at Devlin Crane, billionaire. “Let me walk out, damn you.”

He unlocks the door, steps aside, but then fakes me out—he grasps my wrists, pins me against the wall and presses his mouth to mine. At that moment, Jonathon shoves open the door. He’s fully dressed in jeans and a white dress shirt, holding a tumbler half-filled with amber liquid.

“Goddamn it,” Jonathon growls. His hand slashes through his black hair. Pain flashes in his eyes as he looks at me.

He turns on his heel and stalks out.

Oh hell. He thinks I was willing, that I wanted this. That I was going to betray him with Crane.

I’m beyond furious.

“Your choice right now, beautiful,” Crane says, utterly unconcerned. “Stay with me. Go with Jonathon.”

“I’ve just lost Jonathon.”

“No,” Crane says, “I can—”

But I’ve heard enough from Mr. Arrogant Billionaire. I run out of the bathroom and chase Jonathon to the beach. When I reach the sand, he has stripped off his shirt and pants and is pulling down his silk boxers. He runs into the water, keeps running, and heads out toward the dark ocean with powerful strokes.

It scares me. I know raw anger when I see it. I know what it’s like to need to burn energy because it’s screaming inside you and makes you want to explode.

His powerful strokes are taking him out into the dark. He could get into trouble out there. I suspect he’s not exactly sober.

It’s been a few years since I swam seriously but in a few strokes, I’m powering through the water. I have to really pull and kick to catch Jonathon.

He stops, kicking and thrashing. I reach him, my hand touches his ankle.

“Fuck, I’ve got a cramp!” he shouts.

“Roll onto your back. Just relax.”

“Relax? I’m going to drown. Fuck it!”

I approach with one foot forward in case Jonathon panics and I have to kick him away. God, I don’t want to have to do that. The rolling waves and the power of the surf make this much harder than I’d expected. “Just do it, Jonathon. Even with a cramp, you can float. Relax!” I command. In this, I can be the Dom.

To my surprise, he obeys. He lies back, but he’s not relaxed. I swim up behind him. I wrap my arm across his chest. Then I start kicking. Being at college has sapped some of my strength for swimming—I never have time to swim in the college pool. In the School of Architecture, it’s not unusual to spend seventy or eighty hours a week in the workshops or our studio. But I was running to stay in shape, and I was taught how to be efficient when I swim.

Fighting the pull of the waves is something I’ve never done before. I throw everything I have into it. Of course, Jonathon is muscular—the hardest body type to tow.

Finally, shore seems to be getting nearer. My body is straining with effort, my muscles burning.

Suddenly Jonathon breaks free of me, and I shout, “No. Not if you have a cramp.”

But he is determined and he stands up. I didn’t notice we reached a depth where he can stand. I’m relieved, but so exhausted, I start to sink. I’m too spent to put my legs down—

The waves crash into Jonathon, sending him stumbling, but he grabs me. Lifts me. He carries me out to the beach, draped in his arms.

We both collapse, panting harder than after we’ve had sex.

The warm salty water rushes around me—soothing, though it was just my enemy before. The sand is firm, soft, comforting.

“You saved my life, babe.” Jonathon rolls onto his side. Waves splash over him.

“What were you thinking to swim out in the dark like that?”

“I was losing you,” he says. “Goddamn, I saw you with him, and I didn’t care what I did.”

“Crane grabbed me and kissed me. I told him no. Then he propositioned me and I said no again, Jonathon. I don’t want him. It’s you I l—” I break off. It’s too early to say it. “I care about you, not him.”

“Crane forced a kiss on you. Deliberately. In front of me.” Jonathon pushes up on his arms. His back is covered in wet sand. Water streams off his skin, drips off his hair. “Fuck him.”

I sit up. My shirt clings to my puckered nipples, my jean shorts are sodden. “What? This is some kind of game between you two?”

“Not a game. He’s pushing me to reveal things to you.”

“Then do. Jonathon, you can tell me anything. You must know that.”

“I don’t—”

I grab his arm, breaking through his words. “You almost drowned. You want revelations? Okay. The whole threesome thing freaked me out. I’ve done things that I shouldn’t have done in my past. I agreed to a threesome once, though it never happened, and the whole thing made me feel like crap. You know about the things that happened to me—well, I did a lot of crappy things to myself afterward. I had sex because I wanted to hold someone and have pleasure. But I never valued myself and that means you likely won’t value me either. So that’s my revelation. Tell me yours. Some day you are going to realize you despise me because of what I’ve done, but you can always trust me—”

“Despise you?” Jonathon hauls me against him and his lips touch the top of my head. “I admire you. Adore you. You saved my life. You cared about me enough to give me a Christmas. Mia, you’ve done things for me that no one else ever has.”

For a while, we just embrace in silence, our chests moving up and down.

Then Jonathon groans. “Okay, I’ll give you my fucking worst. The night my mother died, everyone thought it was suicide. But it wasn’t. My father caught my mother fucking one of the chauffeurs. And he killed her over it. She didn’t jump to her death. He pushed her. I know he did.”

“Oh my God, did you see it happen?”

“No. But I knew he did it. She wouldn’t have taken her own life. Not when she wanted a Christmas with us. Not when she had a hot servant to fuck under my father’s nose. He did it but I can’t prove it.”

Now I understand why Jonathon wants so much to piss off his father.

“Jonathon, I didn’t betray you with Crane.”

“I can see that now.”

A shadow falls over us. Someone is blocking the moonlight. We look up at Devlin Crane. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I tried to steal her from you, Powell,” he says to Jonathon. “But she refused. If you had not gone off in a crazed shit-fit, I would have explained that.”

“You bastard.” Jonathon jumps out, slams one fist into Crane’s flat gut, then punches him in the jaw. Crane jerks backward, falls on his ass on the sand.

The billionaire rubs his jaw. “I deserved that. But did you talk to her? Open up to her?”

“He did,” I say.

“Good. She’s a keeper, dude.” Crane laughs, gets to his feet. “So keep her.”

Chapter Ten

Crane walks away and Jonathon pulls me on top of his chest on the sand. “Make love to me, Mia,” he says.

This is the first time I’ve been on top. But I realize the problem. “You don’t happen to have a condom in your swim trunks, do you?”

I hate to stop for practicality, but I have to. I’m on the pill. I have been for a long time, but I refuse to have unsafe sex.

Jonathon gives a deep, raspy laugh. “No, when I went racing out into the ocean like an idiot, I never thought of it.”

I assume the moment is gone, as I scramble off Jonathon, and he gets up. He puts his arm around my waist, and we trudge through the warm, white sand to the terrace. Crane has gone. He left a note.

Will miss you at the club, Powell
, it reads.
But you’re getting whipped a different way.

Jonathon just grins. “Crane’s jealous.” And he looks pleased about it.

Then he guides me into his huge bedroom. This is the one place we haven’t made love yet.

He leaves the lights off, but opens the terrace doors. The glow from the outdoor lights spills in, along with the silvery streams of moonlight.

“You saved my life, Mia,” he says softly. “You mean so much to me.”

His words stun me.

Cupping my face, Jonathon kisses me. We play a game of opening and shutting our eyes. When he’s looking at me, it feels so intense I have to close my lids.

Then I get the courage to open them. I think my problem is fear. I’m afraid to open my heart, afraid to trust anyone, afraid to share.

With Jonathon, I don’t have any reason to be.

Kissing me deeply, masterfully, he leads me back to his bed. Lowers me onto it and it sinks beneath our weight. Fragrant breezes flow over us.

It’s different tonight. Amazing.

And I whisper, “I want you to tie my hands. I want you in control tonight. I trust you.”

I expect the velvet ropes. Instead he brings the vinyl bondage tape. It looks ultra kinky, I have to admit, as he pulls off a strip.  I raise my hands over my head, wrists locked together.

As he wraps the tape, tying my wrists tight, I squirm on the bed. 

When Jonathon gets on top, his body fits perfectly against mine. All my skin is caressed by his, my breasts delightfully squashed by his broad chest, my legs spread wide by his hips. We’re blending bondage and vanilla and it’s…beautiful.

I am very wet for him, and he thrusts easily, slowly, deeply. He rests his head beside mine, so his breath tickles my ear, and his moans excite me. His rhythm is easy to connect to, and each time I thrust up to him, his shaft tickles my hard clitoris.

I’m so thrilled I stay almost completely silent, in amazement, joy, only letting soft groans escape. His hips shift and he’s stroking an amazing place inside me with the head of his cock, and banging my clit with the hilt. Then I can’t think at all, knowing only that if I keep thrusting up to him I will experience something incredible. The orgasm that takes me is powerful, my whole pussy moving, jerking. It floods my brain. There is no conscious thought at all. Just pure delight.

I don’t know whether Jonathon comes. He stops. Whether he has his orgasm, or he realizes I am having one...I can’t concentrate on him, or feel him. Then his hips drive into me, rock, and he moans loud into my ear. He lifts up for a second, as though he’s waiting for something, then lies down on me. Breathing heavy.

I laugh then, at least at first, then I’m sort of crying. Exhilarated by my experience. I just had a…an emotional orgasm, one of the soul. That’s the only way I can describe it. This is deeper, more intense than anything I’ve ever had.

I realize Jonathon is looking at me, at my tears, with worry. I have to explain. “You made me…come.”

He smiles, surprised, as he tears the tape off my wrists, freeing my hands. He doesn't understand the significance to me, probably thinks: So what? Doesn't that always happen?

He probably expected something more volatile from me. More yelling, more moaning. I think my silence has disappointed him, and he doesn’t know that he gave me the most beautiful pleasure I’ve ever had. Because I didn’t scream and shout.

I try to explain. “That was amazing. I’ve never…I’ve never come like that before.”

“You were so quiet. Usually you scream.”

“I couldn’t scream because this was just…just intense.”

“Good?” he asks.

“Beyond perfect,” I say. It has to mean something that I could connect with him so deeply. Did it happen because I feel so connected to him, because I can be honest with him, open up to him so much? Does it mean I love him? More than I did Ryan?

Jonathon rolls to the side, draws off the condom, tosses it into the wastebasket beside the bed.

“I’m sleepy,” I whisper. “I should go.”

“Stay,” he says.

“But you don’t like to share your bed,” I protest.

He snuggles close to me, wraps his arm around me so I can’t leave. “I want to share it with you.”

“Okay,” I say, and I close my eyes. His body is warm against mine as he spoons into me and wraps his arm around me. I feel safe, cossetted, adored. There isn’t anything about me he hasn’t seen and he still wants to be with me. It’s amazing.

So is sleeping a whole night with Jonathon, then waking up beside him the next morning. It’s the most heavenly thing in the world.

***

It’s our last day at
Azure
, and we spend it at the villa, swimming in the ocean, lazing by the pool. I haven’t asked Jonathon anything more about his mother. It’s like my issues: there are times I can talk about them and times I can’t.

I have to wait for him to be ready.

At the end of the day, we are lying on two deckchairs on the beach. Before us, the sky is violet and pink with strips of burning orange and red at the horizon. I sip a heavenly drink through a straw. “I can’t believe this is the last sunset already. Tomorrow it’s back to the real world.” My throat aches as I say that. I don’t want to go back.

I’m going back home, then back to Yardley in about a week, and classes start the day after that.

“I have to ask you something, Mia.”

He sounds serious, which worries me. “What is it?”

He sits up, giving me that soul-searching, total-focus-on-me gaze. “When we get back to Yardley for the next term, would you consider moving in with me?”

Jonathon has a huge house in the mountains about twenty minutes from the Yardley campus.