Whatever You Like (11 page)

L
ater that evening, they disembarked at Mackinac Island and had dinner at a romantic waterfront restaurant that boasted the best views of the island. Not that it really mattered. They spent more time staring at each other and trading intimate smiles across the table than actually enjoying the scenery.

After dinner they strolled hand in hand along the picturesque downtown streets, where the delectable scent of fudge wafted out from every other shop that lined the sidewalks. Lena didn't protest too much when Roderick tugged her into one of the candy shops to get a sample of Mackinac Island's world-famous fudge. It was divine, hand-paddled morsels of heavenly decadence. One taste just wasn't enough. At the shopkeeper's urging, they sampled a variety of flavors, everything from butter pecan to double chocolate fudge. They laughed quietly
as they fed each other, licking fingers and sharing heated looks that made even the shopkeeper blush.

Before they left, Roderick bought a pound of several different flavors to take home to his nieces and nephews. But once he and Lena had boarded the horse-drawn buggy that would deliver them back to the yacht, he dug into the stash, broke off a piece of fudge and slid it into Lena's mouth. As he withdrew, she closed her lips around his fingers and sucked them clean. Roderick inhaled sharply, his pupils flaring and dilating in the moonlit darkness of the enclosed carriage.

She fed him a morsel of fudge, then licked into his mouth, stealing the melted sweetness off his tongue.

He groaned, dragging his lips from hers to nuzzle her throat. The rasp of his unshaven jaw sent electric bolts of sensation down to her stomach. “I want you, Lena,” he whispered huskily.

She trembled hard. “I want you, too. But we have to wait. We're almost at the marina.”

“I can't wait that long.”

She pulled away reluctantly. “You have to.”

“Then touch yourself for me.”

Her mouth went dry. “What?”

“You heard me.” His low, velvety voice was an invitation to sin. “I want to see you pleasure yourself. For my eyes only.”

She shook her head, darting a glance outside at the coachman. “Not here. When we get back to the yacht.”

A devilish gleam filled Roderick's eyes. He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “If you don't touch yourself, I'll do it for you.”

A shiver of desire rippled through her. She stared at him, and had no doubt that he'd make good on his threat
if she refused to do as he'd asked. His hand was already easing up her skirt, the heat of his touch igniting every molecule in her body.

She'd never masturbated in front of anyone before. She'd done it plenty of times in the privacy of her own bedroom, but never before an audience. It seemed fitting that her first time would be with Roderick, who'd also given her her very first underwater orgasm. No doubt she'd be experiencing many more “firsts” before the weekend was over.

Pulse pounding, Lena reached under her skirt and panties and tentatively touched herself. Of course she was already drenched. Her body remained in a perpetual state of arousal whenever Roderick was around.

Staring into his eyes, watching him watch her, she leaned back against the cushioned seat and slowly, provocatively, spread her legs. She licked two of her fingertips, which still tasted sweetly of fudge, then slid them into her wet, aching pussy. Her body arched, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping her lips. She pushed her fingers inside as far as they'd go, pressing the hot flesh of her inner walls, following the curve of her pelvis.

Holding her gaze, Roderick settled back against the seat and stretched out his long legs. But she wasn't fooled for a second by his relaxed pose. She could feel the heat and tension radiating from his body. And when the carriage passed under a streetlamp, she saw the unmistakable bulge of his erection straining against his fly.

The experience of being watched by him was unbearably arousing, unbearably erotic. Slowly, deliberately, she began moving her fingers in and out of her body. Her nipples hardened beneath her blouse, begging
for attention. With her free hand she cupped her right breast, tweaking and tugging at the nipple until it felt as tight and achy as her engorged clitoris.

Roderick watched her, nostrils flaring, eyes glittering feverishly. She expected him to pounce on her at any minute, but he remained still, exercising the same willpower that had kept him tied to the bed last night.

Lena shoved her fingers deeper, feeling her wetness leak out onto her hand. Wanting to torment Roderick, to push him to the limits of his self-control, she withdrew her hand and held it up to a sliver of moonlight streaming through the carriage window. When Roderick saw the moisture glistening on her fingers, he sat forward, his fist clenching and unclenching on his thigh.

Lena felt a surge of wicked satisfaction.
Gotcha,
she thought.

She licked her fingertips, tasting herself before sliding her fingers back into the warm sheath of her body. Smothering a groan, Roderick slid down on the bench and spread his legs as if he could no longer keep them together, as if his erection had grown so massive inside his dark pants that he couldn't contain it. His reaction excited and electrified Lena, made her feel powerful and primitively erotic. When he began rubbing himself, she almost came apart.

Leaning her head back against the seat, she closed her eyes and worked her fingers faster, alternately thrusting them inside and running them in tight circles against her swollen clit.

Soon she was panting, and so was Roderick. The harsh rhythm of their breathing nearly drowned out the clattering of the carriage wheels and the clip-clopping of the horses' hooves.

Opening her heavy-lidded eyes, Lena saw that Roderick had moved closer to her on the bench. A current of electricity ran from his body to hers. As they stared into each other's eyes, Lena imagined him sinking to his knees in front of her, burying his mouth between her legs and sucking her clitoris as only
he
could do. She imagined wrapping her legs around his neck, holding him tightly in place as he laved and licked her, feasting on her pussy as if it were dipped in the finest imported chocolate.

And then she imagined his long, hot tongue thrusting deep inside her.

That pushed her over the top.

She cried out and dissolved, shivering from head to toe.

As the violent spasms gradually tapered off, she slumped against the seat and grinned weakly at Roderick.

Without a word he reached over and took her hand. As she stared at him, he drew her slick fingers into his mouth and sucked hard, his eyes closing in helpless ecstasy.

She almost lost it again.

When he'd sucked her fingers dry, he kissed them one at a time, then splayed her hand over his thudding heart and leaned his head back against the seat. Her belly quivered at the sight of his huge erection tenting the front of his pants. She wanted to unzip him, take him down the back of her throat and finish him off.

But she resisted, exercising patience. She could see the bright, glittering lights of the marina just up ahead. The gleaming white hull of the
Native Sun
towered above the other docked boats.

She sighed. “I think I'm going to buy shares in that fudge shop.”

“Hell,” Roderick growled thickly, “after tonight, I'll buy the damn company.”

W
hen Lena's cell phone rang early the next morning, she was sleeping so soundly that she almost didn't hear it. When the ringing finally registered in her brain, she felt a dagger of alarm that made her bolt upright, then snatch her purse off the floor and fumble out her phone. Her heart knocked when she saw her sister's number.

“Morgan?” she answered alertly.

Morgan began, “Don't panic—”

Which was the absolute
wrong
thing to say, because it kicked Lena's heart rate into full-fledged alarm mode. “What is it?”

“There's been an accident at the retirement home.”

“What happened?” Lena demanded, her voice sharp with fear.

“Poppa's been injured. He broke his arm and—”

“What! How the hell did that happen?”

“I'm not sure,” Morgan said quickly. “I'm on my way
to the hospital right now. I told the retirement home I'd call you myself. For some reason they couldn't get through to your cell phone. You must be somewhere with spotty reception.”

Guilt assailed Lena. “I'll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can get there.”

“Okay.” Morgan hesitated. “Where are you anyway?”

“I'll tell you later,” Lena evaded. “But do me a favor and call me when you arrive at the hospital. I want an update on Poppa ASAP.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Morgan promised.

Lena disconnected, her hand trembling as she clutched the phone, her thoughts racing a mile a minute. “Lena.”

She whipped her head around to see Roderick propped up on one elbow, watching her with a concerned expression. “What happened?” he asked gently.

“There was an accident. My grandfather broke his arm and—oh, God! I don't even know if that's the worst of it! I didn't let my sister finish. I have to call her back.” She was already speed-dialing Morgan's number. When the call went through to voice mail, she cursed in frustration.

“Calm down,” Roderick murmured.

“Don't tell me to calm down!” Lena snapped. “My grandfather is an eighty-year-old man who's already suffered a massive stroke that left him bound to a wheelchair. The last thing he needs is another injury to further weaken his body, not to mention his psyche!”

“I wasn't trivializing your concern,” Roderick said evenly. “I told you to calm down because having a panic attack won't do you any good.”

“Since when do you care about what's good for me?”
Lena jeered, her voice filled with bitter accusation. “This whole weekend was all about
you,
not me. You and your damn needs. I told you I had other obligations, but you wouldn't listen!”

Instead of defending himself, Roderick gazed at her with those dark, penetrating eyes that discerned way too much. “You shouldn't feel guilty because you weren't there, Lena. Unless you attach yourself to your grandfather's hip—”

Lena lunged to her feet impatiently. “I don't have time for this! I need to get back to Chicago.”

As she strode toward the bathroom, she suddenly remembered that they were on a boat out in the middle of Lake Michigan. Swearing profusely, she drew up short and whirled around. “How long will it take us to get back to Chicago?”

“Not long,” Roderick assured her, throwing back the covers and rolling out of bed. “We'll take the helicopter.”

For once, she was glad he had a solution to everything.

 

Lena told herself to keep her emotions in check for her grandfather's sake. But when she arrived at the hospital and saw him lying in bed, looking frail and battered with one arm elevated in a cast and IV tubes snaking out of the other arm, her mind flashed back to the terrible day three years ago when she'd received the news about his stroke. Fearing the worst outcome that day, she'd caught the first flight home and rushed straight to the hospital, wondering whether she'd make it in time to say goodbye to her grandfather.

As if sensing her presence in the doorway, Cleveland opened his eyes and slowly turned his head to look at
her. He mustered a feeble smile. “There she is,” he greeted her in a thin, raspy voice. “There's my baby girl.”

“Poppa.” Tears blurred Lena's vision as she hurried to his bedside and leaned down to hug him as gingerly as her overwrought emotions would allow.

“Now, now,” Cleveland soothed, reaching around to awkwardly pat her back with his good arm. “Don't you start all that boo-hooing or you'll get your sister going again. She's been in the bathroom for the past twenty minutes trying to compose herself.”

Lena didn't know whether to laugh or sob. “I was so worried about you!”

Cleveland clucked a tongue. “No need for that. I'm just fine, as you can see.”

Lena sniffed, taking in his ashen complexion, rheumy eyes, sunken cheeks and plastered arm. “With all due respect, Poppa, you look anything
but
fine.”

He smiled softly at her. “Can't say the same about you, though. You look pretty as a picture, baby girl. And unless my eyes are deceiving me, your face is glowing.”

“Your eyes are deceiving you,” Lena retorted, even as heat suffused her cheeks. No way could her grandfather tell, just by looking at her, that she'd spent the past day and a half having the best sex of her life. And no way was she telling him.

She brushed a gentle hand over his warm forehead and frowned. “You have a fever.”

He grimaced. “I know. And before you start fretting, the doctor says it's normal to run a fever after suffering an injury. It's the body's way of coping with the trauma.”

“How did this happen, Poppa?” Lena demanded. “How on earth did you break your arm?”

Before he could respond, the bathroom door opened and Morgan walked out. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes confirmed that she'd been crying.

Lena's heart constricted with tender sympathy. Morgan was the one who'd found their grandfather sprawled on the floor after he suffered a stroke, so receiving the emergency phone call from Lakeview Manor this morning had probably given her horrible flashbacks.

“Hey, you're here,” she said to Lena.

“I'm here.” When Morgan reached her, Lena hugged her around the waist and gently searched her face. “You okay?”

“Sure,” Morgan said ruefully, hitching her chin toward their grandfather. “But
I'm
not the one in traction. So has he told you yet?”

“Told me what?” Lena asked, dividing a wary glance between her sister and grandfather.

“Has he told you how he broke his arm? I've been trying to get a straight answer out of him since he woke up from surgery.”

Lena frowned at her grandfather. “What's going on, Poppa? You know I'm going to interview everyone at the retirement home to find out what happened this morning. If you're trying to protect someone—”

Cleveland grimaced. “No, no, no. Nothing like that. I was waiting for you to arrive so I could tell both of you at the same time.”

“Tell us what?” the sisters echoed in unison.

An excited gleam filled Cleveland's eyes. “The Lord has answered our prayers. When I woke up early this morning, I felt a tingling sensation in my left leg. Oh,
it's happened once or twice before, but this time it was different. Stronger. It reminded me of that burning sensation you get in your fingers and toes after they've gone numb from frostbite. But once you get inside where it's nice and warm, they start thawing out and tingling as the feeling returns.” He paused, a broad grin sweeping across his face. “That's what I experienced this morning. I felt the numbness wearing off my bad leg.”

“Oh, Poppa.” A lump had lodged in Lena's throat. She and Morgan reached for each other's hands and squeezed.

“But that's not even the best part.” Cleveland's voice had grown stronger, his eyes brighter. Even his coloring had dramatically improved. “I kept lying there in bed, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for the tingling sensation to go away. But it didn't. So you know what I did?”

Lena and Morgan leaned forward with riveted expressions.

Cleveland grinned. “I rolled myself into an upright position. Well, about as upright as I could manage. Then I took a deep breath, said a prayer—and pushed myself to my feet.”

The two sisters gasped.

“Poppa!” Morgan cried excitedly. “You didn't!”

“I did,” Cleveland asserted, beaming with pride. “I stood on that tingling leg for a good while, just waiting for it to give out on me. It didn't. So I took another deep breath, said another prayer. And I stepped forward.”

Lena and Morgan squealed, tears streaming down their faces.

“Three,” Cleveland said, holding up the corresponding number of fingers. “I took three steps across the room before the leg buckled under me. I went down like a
felled tree. Unfortunately, I landed awkwardly on my arm and broke it.”

“Oh, Poppa,” his granddaughters chorused sympathetically.

Almost at once they began fussing over him, checking his IV fluids, giving him a drink of water, adjusting his blanket and making sure he was comfortable.

When the flurry of activity was over, Morgan settled into a visitor chair at the foot of the bed while Lena claimed the bedside one.

“So what did your doctor say?” Morgan asked Cleveland. “Does this mean you're going to walk again?”

He made a face. “You know how these doctors are. They don't want to get their patients' hopes up, so they downplay everything. He says he's cautiously optimistic, but even he admits that what I experienced this morning is one hell of a breakthrough. Now Margaret—er, Nurse Jacobs,” he amended when Lena and Morgan exchanged knowing glances, “
she's
very excited about what happened. She's a God-fearing woman, so she knows miracles can happen. After she lectured me for trying to walk without anyone around to assist me, she promised to show me some safe exercises that we can do in therapy while I'm stuck wearing this cast. Once it comes off, it's full steam ahead.”

“That's wonderful, Poppa,” Lena said warmly. “I'm so happy for you. Of course, I wish you hadn't broken your arm in the process of making such an amazing breakthrough.”

“So do I,” Cleveland admitted with a rueful grimace. “But as the saying goes: No pain, no gain.”

Lena smiled. “That's what they say.”

“Anyway, enough about me. How was your trip?”

“My t-trip?” she stammered, flushing.

“Yeah. Morgan says you had to go out of town unexpectedly.”

“Oh. Right. I did.”
Not now. Please, God, not now.
“You know, Poppa, you should probably get some rest. You had surgery this morning, and I'm sure the painkillers they gave you are making you drowsy. You were dozing off when I arrived.”

To her relief, Cleveland nodded in agreement. “It
has
been an eventful day. But I don't—” He broke off abruptly, staring over her shoulder in surprise.

Even before Lena turned around, she knew Roderick had appeared in the doorway. She'd specifically told him to stay in the waiting room, but she should have known he wouldn't listen to her, just as he'd insisted on escorting her to the hospital and taking her home afterward.

“Say, I know who you are,” Cleveland exclaimed. “I see your picture in the paper all the time. You're—”

“Roderick Brand,” Morgan breathed, her eyes wide as saucers in her face.

Roderick flashed a smile at her, but his attention was on Cleveland, who was staring at him with unabashed curiosity. “I hope I'm not interrupting—”

“Not at all,” Cleveland said easily, though he had to be wondering why one of Chicago's wealthiest residents was standing in the doorway of his hospital room. He looked askance at Lena, who was blushing furiously and wishing some mythical creature would swoop in on giant wings and whisk her away from there.

As comprehension dawned, Cleveland gaped at Roderick, his snowy eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “You're here with Lena?”

Roderick smiled. “Yes, sir. I am.”

“Well.”
I'll be damned,
the unspoken words echoed in the stunned silence that followed. This time Lena simply prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

“Well, don't just stand there.” Recovering from his shock, Cleveland waved Roderick into the room with his good arm. “Come join the party.”

Lena leveled a glare at Roderick as he approached the hospital bed.

Deliberately ignoring her, he reached out and grasped her grandfather's hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morrison.”

“Same here, young man. Got a good handshake there. Confident. Strong.” Cleveland sounded as impressed as he looked.

“Thank you, sir,” Roderick said lazily. “Yours ain't too bad either.”

“For an old-timer, you mean?”

Roderick grinned, and Cleveland let out an appreciative bark of laughter.

Lena caught Morgan's meaningful look and just shook her head, as if to say
Don't ask.
She hoped Roderick had a damn good reason for doing this to her, though she couldn't fathom what would justify him putting her on the spot like this.

“Hi, Roderick.” Impatient with her sibling's lack of manners, Morgan stood and initiated her own introduction. “I'm Lena's sister—”

“Morgan.” He smiled, shaking her hand. “It's nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you.”

“All good, I hope?” Morgan grinned, flirting shamelessly.

Roderick chuckled. “All good.”

Morgan beamed at him. “Poppa was right. You
do
have a nice handshake.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Down, girl.”

Morgan made a face at her.

Grinning, Roderick returned his attention to Cleveland. “I'm sorry about your accident, Mr. Morrison. How're you feeling?”