Toxic (28 page)

Jeremy’s grip on me tightened.

“I know, Dawson, and again thank you for everything.”

As he stepped into the elevator, Jeremy asked, “What happened to his face?”

Poppy’s sobs shifted the focus though and the question was left dangling in the air. I wanted to tell him then, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to ruin all the progress we’d made.

“Mom.” I sat beside her and hugged her.

She hugged me back. “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

“I know that,” I told her.

“And when I saw Jeremy was back in your life, I was afraid and happy for you.”

“Is that why you pretended not to know?”

“I figured you would tell me when you were ready.”

I pulled Jeremy down to sit next to me. “Mom, I know you’ve already met, but I want to be the one to introduce you. Jeremy, this is my very special mother—Poppy St. Claire. Mom, this is the man I love—Jeremy McQueen.”

She shed more tears as she hugged me tighter and then hugged Jeremy. When she sat back down, she looked around. “Can we please get out of here? I would offer to take you out for breakfast but”—she looked me up and down—“I don’t think you should be out in public.”

I shook my head. Poppy was Poppy after all. Not that I disagreed with her. I had on sweats and a tee, no bra or underwear, and my Jimmy Choos my only available foot attire.

I was a mess.

“Hugh is downstairs. What do you say to letting me make the two of you breakfast?” my mother said.

I looked toward Jeremy, not for permission, but more for reassurance, I think. Technically, we were still sticking to the plan. I’d be showing him the house I grew up in.

He answered before me. “We’d love to, Mrs. St. Claire.”

“Oh, call me Poppy,” she said, her tears finally slowing.

He nodded at her. “We’d love to, Poppy.”

I squeezed his hand, silently thanking him. I popped up. “Sounds like a plan,” I said and then looked toward my mother, who was still eyeing my clothing. “But Poppy, when was the last time you used your stove?”

She laughed. “Oh darling, to you I’m Mother, not Poppy. And coffee and toast don’t require use of the stove.”

“That’s very true, Mother. Let me go up and grab my things.”

I realized I’d called my mother Poppy on and off since her little indiscretion. I think it was my way of punishing her. But until just then, she’d never said anything about it.

I wondered what had changed.

Having no idea, but wondering if easing her guilt was the reason, I hurried up the stairs to brush my teeth with the hotel spare in the medicine cabinet and wash my face with soap and water. I couldn’t help but think how Poppy would cringe at what I was doing to my skin. I dried my face and ran my fingers through my hair before I picked up my dress and shoes.

When I came back down, my mother was huddled with Jeremy, who was sitting on the coffee table, holding her hand. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her interested in getting to know someone new. She’d closed herself off from the world after my father’s arrest. Partly because she was shunned, partly because she was embarrassed, and maybe mostly because she missed my father.

I really should spend more time with her.

They looked up at me and my mother whispered to him, “Call her. She’s your mother and she loves you.”

I didn’t ask any questions. She’d been talking to him about Hanna and it was obvious they both cared for her. Whatever advice he had sought or my mother had delivered on her own, was between them.

I shoved my feet into my four-inch heels and tried to suppress a groan. My mother hid her smirk, but I could see it. I laughed and grabbed each of their hands. “Come on. Change of plan. I think we should stop and get coffee and bagels and let Hugh drive us through the park a few times. All the leaves will be gone soon and I’d hate to miss the last of them.”

“You always did love the fall,” my mother said.

“See, I already knew that,” Jeremy whispered in my ear.

Jeremy pulled me close and so did my mother.

Sandwiched between the two of them, I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt more loved. With my mother on one side and my boyfriend on the other, I was on top of the world.

The Art of Kissing

We had perfected the art of just kissing.

It was something we were never good at stopping at, but as the day progressed, we were starting to perfect the technique.

Jeremy and I had spent the morning out with my mother and the afternoon together—just the two of us and the city beneath our feet.

When Jeremy suggested Hugh drop each of us off at our own places, I couldn’t contain my shock. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. But we showered and changed and met in the middle where we embarked on something called subway roulette. Get on at one stop, pick a number, and get off at that corresponding stop. The rule was we had to find something to do at each stop that neither of us had ever done.

We had a blast. We went to the hidden subway station beneath City Hall, we explored the whispering gallery in Grand Central, and we walked through the cemetery behind the Bowery Hotel. Around four, Jeremy asked if he could take me to Brooklyn so he could show me the neighborhood he had grown up in.

Of course I was thrilled.

We toured the area he knew so well and ate at one of his favorite restaurants. At dinner we sat and talked. “Tell me, what are your ambitions when it comes to Jet Set?” I asked him.

He dropped his gaze, as if he was shy about it.

“What?” I asked.

Light twinkled in his eyes. “To grow it, city by city, a little at a time, until there’s no big city left untouched.”

I smirked at him. “That’s no small ambition.”

“Nope. What about you? What do you want to do with TSC?”

Blowing air out between my lips, I tried not to sound as heartless as my words would come across. “I want a career, I want to be a part of something great, but I’m afraid TSC might not be it.”

He looked a little surprised. “I thought you wanted to save it?”

“I do. I don’t want my family’s legacy to die or to be stolen out from under us. But I’ll be glad when my father’s back and takes the helm.”

There was hint of sadness in his eyes.

“I’m okay with it though. You see, I’m temporary for this position and I know that. And when my father returns, I hope to be able to hand TSC back over to him intact. Then, who knows, maybe I can be a part of something I can help build.”

He reached across the table for my hand. “You will be. I know it.”

I looked at him and loved the support I saw in his eyes. He wanted for me what I wanted. It meant so much to me.

Later that evening, once the heavy conversation had faded away, I took him to see the film adaptation of my favorite book at the theater around the corner from my apartment because come on, Christian Grey was still on the big screen and he’d never read
Fifty Shades
nor had he seen the movie.

The theater was empty. We were the only people in the cinema and we were behaving—up until the part where Christian threw Anastasia over his shoulder and took her into the boathouse. The more intense the scenes got, the more petting and stroking that was taking place in our seats.

We’d started out innocently enough, holding hands, a few kisses, then Jeremy’s arm went around my shoulder, and my hand floated to his thigh. We’d been good all day, but by then, I wanted him beyond a simple need.

It was an ache that went down to my core.

As the scenes got hotter on the big screen, I could feel the muscles in Jeremy’s body tense.

I guess you could say, I took my boyfriend to see girl porn and he liked it.

As my fingers glided up his jeans, his hips thrust forward in a jerking motion and I knew he felt the same way I did.

Enough was enough.

But then he stopped me by grabbing on to my wrist. He leaned over, whispering into my ear. “I want you to touch me so much right now, I can’t stand it. I want you on my lap, straddling me so I can bury myself deep inside you.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I wanted that too. I was so done with the no sex thing.

“But not here. Not now.”

I pulled my hand back. Was he rejecting me?

I had these crazy visions of us not being able to wait, of me going down on him in the dark theater, of our lust for each other too much to bear as it exploded in a passionate union.

And he was saying no.

Something had changed between us.

Saddened, I worried he didn’t want me like he had.

As if reading my mind, Jeremy’s lips twitched. He stood up and took my hand. “Let’s go.”

Okay, so maybe I was wrong.

I glanced up quickly. “But the movie isn’t over.”

He bent his long, lean body down. “I want you—now. And I’m not waiting for the movie to end.”

Excitement pinwheeled through me as I stood up and followed him out of the theater. My stomach fluttered as I realized he had been listening to my concerns about our relationship. All the frantic fucking wasn’t healthy, is what I had thought, but maybe that wasn’t the case. It was the way we showed each other how much we wanted to be together. The rest, he was right, would come.

And it was.

It had been.

I just hadn’t seen it.

I was too worried about the bad to see the good.

He walked fast and I walked faster to keep up, cursing the heels of my boots with each hurried step. We made it to my apartment building quickly and we were inside my apartment door even quicker.

Jeremy didn’t shove me against the wall or push me down onto the couch though; instead he helped me out of my jacket and then took his off. After he hung them both, he surprised me by picking me up in a cradling position and carrying me to my bed.

I stared into his hungry eyes as he set me down.

We didn’t talk.

He opened my drawer and found the lighter I kept there and proceeded to light the candles I had scattered around my room. He took his boots off and I did the same. The room stayed silent as he moved about, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his phone. He tapped the screen a few times and plugged his iPhone into one of the two glass speakers on my dresser. Soft music started to play. He turned the lights out and his beautiful silhouette was all I could see in the glow from the candlelight as he moved toward me.

My heart was pounding with anticipation and I inched my way farther up the bed. The mattress shifted just as my elbows settled on one of the pillows. My heart pounded even harder as he crawled up to me.

When he reached the pillows, he loomed over me and his gaze overtook me. His mouth was parted and those intense blue eyes were shining down on me. He leaned forward and I eased back until my head was on the pillow.

“I love you,” he whispered as his hands slid to the hem of my sweater.

Goose bumps rose all over my skin.

“I love you too,” I whispered back.

He slowly pulled my sweater over my head. I had opted for underwear and was wearing a sheer black bra—our game of Friday and challenge of Saturday seemed so long ago and had been abandoned after the events of last night.

I, in turn, lifted his shirt and pulled it over his head.

He hadn’t kissed me yet; instead his gaze continued to burn down on me. I felt warm under his stare even though the room was a bit chilly.

Jeremy traced a shape on my bare stomach.

It was a heart.

“I’m going to marry you one day,” he said softly.

My breath caught. He wasn’t asking me then though, he was just letting me know his intentions. I smiled up at him. I’d never thought about us marrying but then, thinking about it, I couldn’t help but melt when I thought about him calling me his wife.

I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to be his wife.

That, to me, didn’t sound strange at all.

His fingers trailed down and he unbuttoned my jeans. I lifted myself as he slowly slid them down to reveal the matching sheer lace thong I was wearing.

His pupils had gone dark, swallowing the blue of his eyes. And his lips were glistening from where his tongue had snuck out and licked them.

I swallowed as I felt my pulse leap.

With shaky hands, I hooked my fingers in the denim at his hips and tugged them down. He moved a little, helping me, and then took over removing them and letting them drop to the floor in a neat little pile along with our other clothes.

Our gazes never left each other’s as we both breathed hard.

He rolled to his side and propped himself up on one elbow. With an easy hand, he traced the lacy edge of my bra from one side to the other.

My nipples tightened until they were hard and aching. When Jeremy’s thumb caressed one over the material, I sucked in a breath.

His eyes were dark and intense as he watched me and I closed my eyes when he pushed one cup aside to expose my nipple. When I felt his lips on my exposed skin, I bit my lip to stop from moaning but my body shuddered beneath his soft touch anyway.

With precision, he reached around me and unhooked my bra, pulling my arms from it as Phil Collins played in the background.

I opened my eyes to watch when he moved back over me and slid my fingers in the waistband of his boxers.

He too had decided on underwear today.

I eased them down and he kicked them off. Those didn’t land in the neat pile on the floor, but rather wherever my foot had flung them. I was driven by the need to touch him, one that didn’t allow for this slow pace. He made a noise when my hand wrapped around the length of his long, thick cock. He was warm, and his skin felt like silk as I slowly stroked him.

He didn’t stop me, but he did press his body closer to mine as he trailed his lips down my belly and his fingers followed, forcing me to let go of him.

Sensation overtook me as he slowly licked down the center of my panties and with a light touch, slid them down my hips.

We were both finally naked.

His mouth was on my core and I started to tremble when light flicks of his tongue entered me once, twice, three times but that was it.

He trailed his tongue up my body and that hint of stubble tickled. When he reached my mouth, he finally kissed me.

That mouth.

Those lips.

I loved them.

I loved him.

Decadently happy, I wrapped my arms around him and when I did, I could feel his muscles bunching.

Staring intently at each other, we looked into each other’s eyes as he ever so slowly slid into me.

Oh God.

My head fell back and an echo of soft moans escaped my throat, he felt so amazing.

And the way his eyes blazed down at me, I knew he was feeling it all too.

When he moved, he moved slowly, with steady strokes.

In.

Out.

Up.

Down.

In.

Out.

Up.

Down.

We were in rhythm, in sync, and my clit rubbed against him with every thrust. The pressure felt good, but not enough to push me over the edge. Which was good, because I liked the tantalizing way he was making me feel.

He didn’t increase his pace as we both absorbed the pleasure of making each other feel good.

He was making love to me.

For the first time in our sexual history, our union wasn’t about frantic fucking with a driving need for release.

It was about him, and me, and the love we shared for each other.

There wasn’t any doubt we’d always have the frantic fucking, but now I also knew we’d have this too. And if I had been feeling any ounce of reservation about our relationship, it was completely gone.

We were going to be a couple. And we were going to be happy.

My mind focused on the splendor of it all, I didn’t realize what the tingling meant, until my orgasm crashed over me so fast, it overtook my entire body.

I arched my back and watched Jeremy’s face contort. He’d lifted himself a little higher and his thrusts had sped up just a bit.

Warmth rippled through me.

“Jeremy,” I whispered.

“Phoebe,” he managed.

“Oh, Jeremy,” I whispered again.

His eyes closed and his body stilled, as he let out one long exhale before his body collapsed on top of mine and he buried his head in my neck. After some time, he rolled onto his side and propped himself on his elbow again.

We stared at each other with knowing eyes. We weren’t done. We weren’t done by any means.

Minutes passed before Jeremy hovered over me and covered me with his body and kisses. He kissed every inch of me—from my head to my toes.

Later that night when we were finished—for the moment anyway—he pulled me to him so that my back was to his chest.

When he did, I twisted so that I could see him. “I love you.”

He sounded sleepy when he replied, “I love you too. No matter what happens.”

I didn’t know exactly what he meant, but after everything we’d been through, I was certain he meant: If we could make it through what we had, we could make it through anything.