Wicked Bad Boys (20 page)

I
do
my best to hold to my promise of keeping Rebecca in bed for most of the weekend, except for the long walk we had last night, and when I made her dinner, and now, as we’re standing in the shower. I was not kidding when I told her I was addicted to her. I am. I crave the woman. I’m thinking about her all the time now, and I can’t wait to get close to her when we’re apart.

I look at her as the hot water cascades down her face and chest. She takes the bottle of shampoo, pours some in her hand, and leans away from the spray. She bundles her hair at the top of her head and massages in the shampoo. I could watch her all day. Everything she does looks sexy. The soap suds run down her body and send a yearning through me again. She puts some conditioner into her hair and repeats the massage.

I wrap my hands around her waist, and turn her to face me. I flick my gaze down. She follows my glance and stops at my cock. It’s erect and needs her touch.

She smiles, her lips rising at the ends as her tiny hand wrap around the base and begins to stroke it. Soon I catch her off guard. I kneel and let the soap run off her before pressing my lips to her mound. I look up at her. It’s a view worth remembering—water hitting her breasts and rolling down her stomach as I begin to tease her swollen clit.

She looks down at me with those eyes that own me as much as I’ve claimed this woman for myself. I look up at her with all the need that I know is in my eyes. She runs a hand through my hair, over my ear, and it comes to rest on the back of my neck as she begins to rock her hips. I part her legs some more, and lift one over my shoulder. I let my tongue roam along her slit, and flick her clit every time it passes over. I lap at the water dripping from her raised thigh, and nip on the spot just before I bury my tongue inside her.

“Please,” she begs. She’s grinding on my face now, and I hold her steady, sucking her clit, then plunging my tongue into her hot center.

“Oh God, Jonathan,” she moans.

She starts to tilt her hips more, enjoying what my tongue is doing to her. I groan and get caught up in the moment of abandon, sliding a hand to her ass to help her along. I hold on to her firmly as her legs buckle and shake through her climax. I don’t let up, and she reaches an arm to hold on to the shower bar, still riding my face through another wave of her orgasm.

I would continue but she stops me, pulling me to stand. She pops up on her tiptoes, and grasps around my cock when she whispers, “I want this inside me, baby.”

Picking her up, I pull her legs around my waist. She leans her head down and kisses me hard on the lips, and it’s all it takes. I can’t resist her any longer. I don’t want to deny her either.

I squeeze my hand in between our bodies and grip the base of my cock to position it under her. She pulls from the kiss and wraps her arms around my neck to hold on. In one firm thrust, I bury my cock deep inside her. She lets out a short, high pitched moan. My swollen cock needs her badly. I jerk my hips up and down, plunging into her warm wet channel over and over as we find our rhythm. My fingers press into her ass cheeks as my shaft sinks deeper inside. She whimpers and gasps every time the head of my cock crashes inside her, and her channel tightens, clamping around my shaft and pleasuring me that much more.

“I’m coming,” she screams, and I hold on to her back to pull her down harder on me. Her walls tighten and undulate as her orgasm rips through her shaking body, sending me to my peak. It hits me so hard I explode into her, and have to hold on tight to the shower walls to keep us both from falling. I keep the other arm around her weakened body, and let the warm water and our emotion pour over us.

After a few minutes, I withdraw. I hold her tight to help her get her feet back on the tub.

“Let’s get back to bed,” she tells me, steps out of the shower, pulling a towel off the rack and throwing one to me.

I start to think I want Rebecca with me all the time. I imagine a day when I tell her I love her and want her to move in with me. In that fantasy, she agrees.

I
t’s
the last afternoon of our mini-vacation. Jonathan tells me we’re going out on his father’s yacht today. I’ve only been out on a yacht once—I was on vacation in Tampa Bay with my parents over six years ago. I’m pretty excited to be out. He tells me it’s a must do, and we have to squeeze it in as the weather is beautiful, sunny and warm.

We drive to the dock, and his crew is already on the yacht he points out to me. We get on board, and after we settle in, they raise anchor and untether the ropes from the dock. Soon, we’re out on the open water, with the shore to our left, the breeze blowing through my hair, the sun at my back, and Jonathan beside me. The moment takes my breath away. It couldn’t be more perfect.

When we finally stop, Jonathan tells me we’re at Gardiners Island. I mention I had thought it was a private island, to which he replies, “It is. I’m a friend of Alex’s nephew.” By Alex, I know he’s talking about Alexandra Gardiner-Goelet, the sole heir and owner of the Gardiner estate. She was Barnaby’s client for years. The one and only time I had met her, she told me I was pretty enough to marry into wealth, but I had chosen the wrong career path. The woman was seriously old school. I never understood her values, but then again, I’m not twelfth-generation old money.

Jonathan tells me we’re going snorkeling.

“Isn’t the Atlantic going to be a little cold for that?” I ask.

“We won’t be in the Atlantic. We’re going to Great Pond. It’s a freshwater pond at the south of the island. It gets nice and warm, don’t worry.”

Once we’re close to the site, I can’t help but worry about the cold water again—one of his crew suggests we get our wetsuits on. We gear up with fins and masks. We enter a somewhat narrow channel to get to Great Pond and I’m awestruck. We pass coastal cliffs and lush, thick vegetation on shore. It looks nothing like New York. Eventually, the yacht stops and drops anchor. I’m a little nervous when they throw fish food into the water.

“Are you sure there aren’t any sharks out there?” I ask.

One of the crewmen laughs. “No, miss. This will only attract little fish.”

“I figured that, but don’t the big fish eat the little fish?”

Jonathan laughs at that, and turns to me. “It’s perfectly safe. You’re a lawyer, remember? You’re the top shark and they’ll know to stay far away.”

I’m not impressed. “Funny.”

“Come on. Let’s get in there,” he says, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “I’ll protect you.”

We sit on the side and jump in. It’s incredible. There are little fish everywhere. They’re all around us as we swim. The sands are sparkling about twenty or so feet below us. Jonathan is right beside me the entire time. He points at different species of fish underwater, and pops above water to tell me what they are.

I go back under and rotate to see all the fish around me. There are so many more fish, and more are joining the school as they begin to circle around us. Jonathan comes down, and they barely change formation. They expand out and circle wider around us, about ten feet away in all directions. It’s breathtaking.

I pop up slowly for air and come down again, hoping I can hold my breath for longer. Their numbers keep increasing as they swim around us. It’s hundreds of them. I look over at Jonathan and he smiles—he’s in awe too. It’s like time stands still as they circle us, from the water’s surface all the way down to the ocean floor. The feeling is indescribable.

None of them have touched us, but we feel them as they create an underwater current of their own. After a few minutes, they slowly thin out and leave. They’re gone almost as quickly as they came, but I feel touched by the experience. We come up for air. Jonathan and I use our fins to stay afloat. He comes close to me and holds me. We don’t talk. I press my body into him as we float. I think we’re both speechless from the incredible experience. It’s exhilarating. I can barely believe the number of fish we saw.

We explore the area for about an hour before we get back on the boat. They raise anchor and we’re off again, but we’re not yet heading back where we came from. One of the crew passes me a few towels and I turn for Jonathan to help me with the zipper of the wetsuit. He kisses my neck and I let out a soft moan. I’m instantly turned on. It’s too bad we’re on the yacht with all this crew around.

“Where are we off to now?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” Jonathan says. “It’s a surprise. You’ll love it.”

Taking my hand, he walks me over to sit on a bench in the shade. I could get used to this. He put his hand around my waist, and I lean my head on his shoulder.

W
hen I look up again
, we’re approaching a tiny dock.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“One of the inland beaches very few people get to see. You can only get to it by boat.”

“Are we going swimming?”

“No,” he answers. Before he explains, I see one of the crew bringing up a large picnic basket and a drink cooler.

“Ahhh. Food.”

“Yes. It’ll be just you and me. Come on.”

We get to the dock and step out to find a private spot. There are a few clusters of oak and maple trees, a sandy beach, and the two of us. I’m starving, but in my head, I’m swooning. There’s nothing more romantic than a picnic somewhere remote. We’re just a couple hours outside Manhattan, and it feels like we’ve hit the pause button of day to day life to actually have a chance to breathe.

“This is as great of a spot as any,” he says, pointing to a smooth stretch of beach under two beach plum trees. He pulls out a blanket from the top of the bag and lays it out. He then finds a checkered tablecloth, spreads it out beside it, and puts the basket and cooler in the middle.

He sits, stretching out his arms for me to sit beside him.

“This is divine,” I tell him as I sit.

I look around and soak in the surroundings. I almost don’t need to eat, it’s so perfect. He unpacks the food. There are sandwiches, fruit, a cheese tray, desserts, and wine which he pours into two glasses. Without delay, we eat and drink until we’re stuffed.

“Let’s relax a bit,” he says afterward, stretching out on his back.

He pulls me down gently at my shoulder to relax on his chest. I turn to kiss his cheek, and nuzzle my face in his neck, closing my eyes to enjoy the sounds of the small waves lapping on the shore, and the wind rustling through the trees. It’s complete abandon. We relax, and soon I hear his breathing change. He’s fallen asleep, and I drift off shortly after.

I
wake
up to the sound of the yacht motor revving. The crew is lively on the boat again. Jonathan stirs beside me. I kiss his neck. He moans and pulls me closer.

“Let’s not go back,” he whispers in my ear.

“Gosh, I’m so with you,” I answer. “You stole the words right out of my mouth.”

He turns to me. “When this chaos is done in New York, maybe we can steal off to the Bahamas, or somewhere just as exotic. Or we can come back here. We both work so hard. A getaway like this should be mandatory.”

“Agreed. I’d love to.”

“Just think. Tomorrow this time we’ll be sitting in our respective offices, or in uptight boardrooms, surrounded by stiff and equally uptight people.”

“That’s too bad, isn’t it?”

“It is. They’ll probably look at us like we’re complete slackers. We’ll be so distracted.”

“I can see it now. Kara will probably tell me to snap out of it and focus on the firm’s priorities.”

“Don’t let Kara fool you. In the office she’s all business, but that woman knows how to let loose.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve seen her around the city, and she’s been down at the Bahamas villa. Mandy does an annual weekend party for Labor Day. You’ll see for yourself.”

“Are you inviting me down?”

“Yes. Of course. If Mandy organizes it again, that is. Even if she doesn’t, we can come back whenever the place is free.” He looks out to the yacht. “Well, it’s getting dark. The crew sounds like they’re ready to take us back.”

“I’ll help you pack up.”

“Yes, you’d better,” he says, kissing my lips. “I can make love to you right here.”

“We’ll have an audience,” I tell him through the kiss.

“They wouldn’t dare,” he answers, lowering me back to the blanket.

With his touch, the sounds of the surf and the breeze, I forget about where we are and let his kiss transport us to where time is irrelevant again.

W
e get back
into town late on Sunday night, and I convince Rebecca to stay the night with me. We’re tired from the long walk we had before we drove back, so we get into my bed and fall asleep in each other’s arms. Again, I have another dreamless sleep. I must be going for a record by now.

Dad sends me a text first thing on Monday morning. He tells me to meet him at his condo. It’s about the trunk. Rebecca is still asleep by the time I get showered and dressed. I leave her a short note that I’ll be back soon and to make herself comfortable. This is the first woman I feel comfortable enough leaving here on her own. There are a lot of firsts with Rebecca, and I keep holding on to a naïve hope that there’s still some possibility for us to be together.

I get up to Dad’s place. I’m confused, because Kara is already there. My father looks as worried as hell.

“Jonathan, we’ve been waiting for you,” Kara says. “Have a seat.”

“What’s going on?” I sit beside Dad. “What did you find out about the trunk?”

Kara speaks up. “The trunk is safe now.”

“That’s great,” I tell her. “Who found it?”

“I had someone on my security team track it down. It’s not a problem anymore.”

“So where was it? Who removed it from the locker?”

I notice Dad isn’t saying a word, and the nervous look on his face is even more worrisome. It’s like he saw a ghost.

“The private investigator on my security team was able to secure it. Let’s think of planning the way forward. The rest is irrelevant.”

“Wait a minute,” I tell her. “How can you say that? If someone else has seen what’s inside, doesn’t that put Dad at increased risk?”

“There’s no increased exposure for your father, and there’s no risk for you.”

“Kara,” I persist, “I have to ask. Why do I get the feeling someone on your security team removed it right after Mandy put it in the locker?”

“You know, Jonathan, you’ve always been really smart. Good guess. You’re right, my lead PI secured it.”

“So why didn’t you tell us before? I stayed in town to help Dad track it down.”

“Sorry, Jonathan,” she says, but her tone is in no way apologetic. “I told you to go. I know you wanted to help Solomon, but you should have listened to me and flown out. Don’t worry, there will be other weekends.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us, Kara?” my dad finally joins in.

I thought he would have been more upset, but his demeanor is so muted right now.

“You’re worried about the wrong thing.”

“I want it back,” Dad tells her.

“Absolutely not, Solomon.”

“What? Why not, Kara?”

“I won’t keep protecting you, Solomon. Sometimes, when you give a cat too much string, it ends up choking itself on it.”

“Wait a minute,” I have to ask. “Why not just destroy it completely? Why store it somewhere? It sounds like it puts Dad in the same place he was before Mandy found it.”

She turns to look at Dad. “It will be destroyed eventually, but I need you’re your father’s assurance that he has…transcended to a better place. Here’s what needs to be done before that trunk disappears forever. First, you will never have a repeat of whatever it was that happened with the Rushton girl…or any of the others…ever. Do you understand me, Solomon?”

Dad shifts around in his seat. “Yes.”

“If there’s even a hint that of anything at all over the next two years, there will be no more chances, Solomon. I don’t know the full scope of what you’ve been doing, and to be honest, I don’t think I could stomach knowing. What I do know is your actions must stop immediately.”

“Are you threatening me, Kara?”

“Of course not. I’m doing what you hired me to do. I’m protecting you, Mandy and your son…and I’m insulating my firm. I’m not finished yet, Solomon. I will help you close the Warrior deal, with Mandy’s financial assistance. You’ll sign whatever her divorce attorney wants you to sign. No negotiating. You’ll also bring Jonathan into Sloan as an executive VP and major shareholder.”

“What?” He gets to his feet. His wide eyes are searing virtual daggers at Kara, and for a moment, he looks over at me. I’m at a loss. This is the first we’re both hearing about this condition that includes me. “What does Jonathan have to do with this?”

“You always intended to have Jonathan play a key role in Sloan Sports and Entertainment, Solomon. You said this yourself. I’m simply making it official. This gives your son a soft place to land after Fairchild’s.”

“Hold on, Kara.” Now it’s my turn to speak up. “This is the first I’m hearing of a specific plan for me at Sloan…and away from Fairchild. Are you telling me someone at Fairchild Industries wants me to resign?”

Up until Thursday, I was fairly certain I had a place at Fairchild Industries—indefinitely. It appears I don’t.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jonathan. No. Fairchild knows nothing of this. I’m not saying you have to leave Fairchild right away. Your move can be a year or two down the road.”

“I don’t understand why.

“You’re not a Fairchild, Jonathan. You can stay if you want, but you’ll never make the strides that are possible in Sloan. In the long term, you’re better off. I’ve also included this term to protect the firm. Having you both as major shareholders will ensure you and your father avoid the risks of future takeover bids. This is a big picture move, gentlemen, and it’s not negotiable. I’m your legal counsel, and you may think I have no right, but at the moment, I have the leverage. So you both will have to trust that this is the best way forward for all parties.”

“I don’t have to do this, Kara,” Dad shouts.

“True, and I have a duty to report what’s in that trunk,” she says to him, eyes steady, voice even calmer and more confident than when she started. “Do you have any idea what I’ve had to do to protect you? I will not risk my firm’s reputation. Frankly, this Rushton case has exposed us more than any other client, and it’s still under investigation.” She picks up her purse and stands. “Take the week to think about it, Solomon. You’ll realize it’s everything you want, everything you need, and it’s all in your favor. Use the week to take a step back and ruminate.”

My father is speechless. He has just been cornered because of his own actions, and he doesn’t like it one bit. He looks at her as she walks to his front door.

“Enjoy your weekend, gentlemen.”

After Kara leaves, Dad slumps into the sofa, defeated. “Do you believe this?”

“Well, Dad, when you think about how bad it could be right now, we’re both getting off pretty easy, don’t you think?”

“She has no right dictating terms like that to me.”

“You heard her, Dad. She’s calling the shots. At some point, you’re going to have to accept responsibility.”

“Oh. You’re taking sides with her?”

“Come on, Dad. You know I’m not. She’s right. She’s protecting you. You’ve got to see that.”

“You’re taking her side. Is that why she rewarded you as a major shareholder in Sloan?”

“I knew nothing about this before now. I had no part in it. You know Kara—she has a mind of her own. Tell me something. Why is this shareholder thing such a big deal to you now? Just two days ago you were telling me you wanted me to join Sloan. I think you’re just resentful she gave you no choice. The truth is, it’s everything you really want anyway. Plus, now you get to turn a new leaf. Just imagine, Dad. If the NYPD eliminates us as suspects in the Rushton case, as long as you never do anything like it again, we’re both free. Isn’t that what you want?”

“I don’t want to think about this anymore.”

I can take a hint, so I stand up to head into his kitchen and make us some coffee. Before I go, I beg him not to do anything he’ll regret. He eyes me and grumbles something. I don’t wait to ask for clarification. I never realized how much Dad resents being controlled, even if it’s for his own good. I may not agree with Kara’s terms, but I know better. If I were Dad, I would do everything she says.