end of the year to bring on our first client. Of course, my stepfather’s knowledge of the business has helped tremendously. Dahlia and I have spent a lot of time over there seeking advice and developing our strategies.
It’s amazing how well Dahlia and my mom get along, and although I know she’s not looking for someone to take Grace’s place, I think she finds comfort in their friendship and honestly so do I. She seems to need a mother figure in her life, and I get it. I’ve had Xander to help me with what was missing from my life when my father died; my mom had her sister to take care of her when their parents died, but Dahlia only had him . . . Ben. I can say his name now. I no longer view Ben as anything more than someone from Dahlia’s past and I can live with that.
Thinking about the two women who mean everything to me, I can’t help but notice how very much alike they actually are. It’s not just the tragedies they have endured, but the unconditional love they both give to those around them.
Smiling, I open the refrigerator and grab the bottle of champagne and the huge bowl of strawberries I snuck in there earlier. Then I take two glasses out of the cupboard and manage to bring it all to our room. I can hear music playing as I approach the door. It’s partially closed and when I open it my jaw drops as I step inside. She’s wearing a lacey white number slit up the front and she looks like an angel. “God, you look incredible,” I tell her, biting my lip to stop from smiling the biggest grin ever. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in or out of clothes and what she’s wearing now makes me want to skip everything I have planned.
She cocks her head to the side and she breaks into a grin that takes my breath away. “Come here, so I can love you.”
Grinning back at her, she doesn’t have to ask me twice. I set my stuff down on the dresser and stride over to her. Embracing her, I run my hands down her silhouette and tell her, “You’re the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.”
She looks at me. “Creature?”
I shake my head.
“That doesn’t sound beautiful,” she mumbles.
“It is,” I whisper against her lips. I can’t even explain to her what I see when I look at her. I must look at her a hundred times a day and each time I find something else, something more beautiful, than the last time I looked. It’s not just her physical beauty that captivates me. Honestly, I don’t care if she’s wearing a ball gown or sweatpants; her beauty is all of her—it’s who she is. And I want to spend the rest of my life looking at her, pulling her to me, loving her. I will spend the rest of my life doing all of those things—of that, I have no doubt.
Sliding my hands around the small piece of fabric she’s wearing, I nip at her lip. She smiles and tries to catch my mouth with hers, but with each passing minute my body throbs with anticipation. She lifts the hem of my T- shirt, pulling it over my head and I don’t waste a second before pressing my bare skin to her. I can never get enough of her. I want her in every way. I don’t even know if she realizes how much I want her—no, not want, how much I need her.
My hands skim the lace on her backside and I press her closer to me. We’re both breathing pretty heavily by the time she steps back and bats her eyelashes. “Maybe you could offer a girl a drink before trying to seduce her.”
Joining in the fun, I say, “Why, of course. Where are my manners?”
Turning toward the dresser, I glance back and take a moment to appreciate the way her eyes watch me, the smile that lights up her face when she sees I’m watching her. I have to bite down on my bottom lip hard to remind myself I have a plan. When I pull the cork, champagne fizzes everywhere. It’s like I shook the bottle or something. Shrugging, I let it drip down my bare chest. I look over at Dahlia and her hand is over her mouth like she’s trying to stifle her laughter, which makes me laugh. As I pour the first glass, she looks at me with fire in her eyes and my insides blaze. When I pour the second glass, she bites her lip in a way that turns me on even more.
My eyes are fixed on her and before I know it the champagne overflows and spills out of the top of the glass. “I told you, bartending isn’t my thing.” We both laugh and I wipe up what I can with the T-shirt from the floor. Then after I’ve dropped a strawberry in each drink, she circles her lips with her tongue and I really think I might explode. I wedge another strawberry on the rim of each glass, because I know she likes two. Her grin widens as I do so and then she says, “Adam or John, whatever your name is, it’s not for your bartending skills that I brought you back to my place.”
With both glasses in hand, I head back her way. I thought I’d be cool with role-playing, but I have to say, I’m not. The only name I want screamed from my girl’s lips is mine. Getting as close as I can without spilling our drinks, I wedge my knee in between her legs and hand her a glass. She gasps at the contact and all I know is that we have way too many layers of clothing between us. I stroke my thumb along her cheek before softly kissing her there. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”
She murmurs, “You have, but don’t ever stop. I want to hear it again and again.”
We’re standing so close that the sound of my pounding heart can only be matched by her quickening breath. She stares at me, her hazel eyes now the darkest brown, with a look that makes me crazy with desire. Taking the strawberry off the rim of my glass, she dips it in the champagne. When she offers it to me, I take a bite then watch as she does the same. Her tongue licks the berry and then her teeth bite down in a way I think I’ve felt before. She walks over to set our glasses down on the night table and when she turns around I can’t help but stare. My pulse speeds up with every step she takes toward me. She strides from her hips—it’s the sexiest walk I’ve ever seen. When she chews on her lower lip, I want to be the one chewing on it.
When she’s close enough I try to scoop her up but she pushes me down on the bed. She doesn’t say a word as she hurriedly pulls off my boots and removes my jeans. I sit up and reach for her but she pushes me back down on the bed. I love when she thinks she’s in control.
She takes a sip of champagne and when she kisses me I can taste the champagne from her lips. Before I know what’s happening, her cold tongue traces the lines of my lower abs. I look down as her lips brush across my stomach and suck in a breath. When she peeks up at me through her long lashes, my muscles clench.
“I.” Another kiss on my stomach and I can feel her smile against my skin. Her hands run over me and I know she’s aware of how much I want her. I think she likes making me wait until I’m overcome with need for her.
“Love,” she says as she drags her tongue up my chest until I feel like I might explode.
“You,” she whispers, nipping at my jaw.
“More,” she teases before finally touching her lips to mine, sending a shiver through my core.
More—we say that to each other all the time, but it’s not about who loves the other more, it’s simply that we love each other more than words can possibly express. And nothing or no one can ever change that.
Her kiss tastes like strawberries, but most of all she tastes like Dahlia and I know I will never get enough of her.
She rises up and I take hold of her. Looking at her, I know what we have will last a lifetime. She’s everything I have ever wanted and more. To think I almost lost her still scares the shit out of me. We’ve both learned a lot over the past month about our relationship and ourselves. I’ve learned that protecting someone I love by withholding information isn’t really protecting them at all. I made her doubt us, made her doubt my trust. I will never do that again. This amazing girl can trust me for a lifetime. She was made for me. And right now I want nothing more than to show her exactly how I feel—to connect our bodies and our souls.
With that thought in mind, I roll us over and rest my forehead against hers. My breathing is so ragged that I have to take a deep breath. Letting it out, I dip my head and graze my lips across her chest. With every soft touch and every warm breath that passes between us I feel our connection more strongly. Kissing her neck, I work my way up to her mouth. She parts her lips slowly and eagerly accepts my tongue’s invitation. I’m working on control, on taking it slow, and tonight of all nights I really want to succeed. But I already know that’s going to be challenging, if not impossible.
Her hands take fistfuls of my hair. She’s tugging on it as if she needs something to hold onto—like she’s also looking for a way to pull us closer and make us one. Stroking my fingers along her silky lace panties, I stop and apply pressure in the spots I know she likes. When she moans, I know she’s as eager as I am to make love. She wants it bad. I swear I hear her whimper when I stop to lean over the night table and grab a strawberry then dip it in a glass of champagne. Twisting back to face her I notice how intently she’s watching me. Her breathing is much heavier and she’s got a huge smile on her face.
I slide the tip of the strawberry from the edge of her panties up between her perfect breasts all the way to her mouth. Placing it between her teeth, I bite down on it and she does the same. I kiss her, licking the excess juice from her lips before tracing my tongue down the champagne trail I left behind.
