RISE - Part One (The RISE Series Book 1) (6 page)

"You've outdone yourself, Tess." Gabriel scans the papers one last time before he looks up at me. "You've really impressed me."

They're the words I've been holding my breath to hear since I walked into his office fifteen minutes ago. I'd handed him a file folder and had sat quietly in a chair waiting while he read everything. He didn't stop once. His eyes had scanned every note I'd made. His long, slender fingers had skimmed over the documents, stopping at where the projected expenses were. I'd held my breath then, part of me worried that he'd find fault in my presentation.

"If this comes in at budget, it's a solid investment for us." He closes the folder. "I want you to move ahead with this."

It's what I've been working so hard for. I've spent the last three days camped out in my office working on this proposal. I'd left each night, after midnight, to head home to nab just a few hours of restless sleep.

I knew that I had only one chance to impress Gabriel and that meant hitting it out of the ball park. Judging by the slight grin that is pulling at the corners of his mouth, I think I passed with flying colors.

"I added twenty percent to my final numbers for leeway." I point at the folder. "I expect we'll be under budget."

He cocks a winged brow. "I'll look forward to seeing that."

I fist my hands together. This is the only aspect of my job that I'm not completely comfortable with. Ironing out the details of what the project entails is what I love but when it comes to negotiating a fee for my services, I'm still not as confident as I want, or need to be. "I can sign a contract today."

"I'll have my assistant draw one up." He leans back in his chair, crossing his long legs. "I'm willing to offer you ten percent more for this project than what we agreed on for the fashion show you handled for us a few weeks ago."

My stomach knots. Gabriel Foster is a shark when it comes to business. The man hasn't built a clothing brand that is astronomically successful because he's overly generous. "I think twenty percent over my fee for the last event is more reasonable. The event in Los Angeles is more expansive and involved."

I can tell by the faint rise of the corner of his lips that he's finding our negotiations amusing. "I'll agree to fifteen, Tess, and a bonus if you can keep this under the budget you presented here."

I scratch my ear, remembering my father's advice to never seem too eager to accept anything being offered in business. "That's very fair, Mr. Foster."

"I'll have someone send over the contract to your office later today." He stands, buttoning his suit jacket in one easy movement. "You'll get started immediately after signing?"

I push myself up to my feet as well, taking a half a second to try and calm my breathing. "Yes. I'll get started right away."

***

"Let's toast to your success." He holds his wine glass in the air.

Let's fuck to my success.

Those are the words that are sitting on the edge of my very wanting tongue. I swear that Landon Beckett gets hotter each and every time I see him.

He arrived back from London a few hours ago. You'd never know by looking at him. He's freshly showered, dressed in a pair of grey pants and a black dress shirt. His beard is trimmed and he smells like the perfect combination of soap, cologne and my perfume.

He'd embraced me tightly when I arrived at his apartment with a bottle of wine in my shaking hand.  I had melted into his arms, finally breathing a sigh of relief. I'd worried, in the brief moments, when I wasn't working, about whether he'd give thought to our discussion and would disappear because he felt he shared too much.

When he called me earlier, I had rambled on about my meeting with Gabriel and the job in Los Angeles. He was complimentary, excited and insisted I come to his place for dinner.

"Tess." He cups his hand under my elbow. "Let's toast to your new project."

I nod, completely unaware of how to control my breathing.

Am I panting? Please, don't let me be panting.

"To the first," he begins before he leans down to brush his lips over my forehead. "To the second of what is sure to be many jobs for Foster Enterprises."

I lift my wine glass in the air, tap it against his and take a small sip. It's delicious and I know that if I give in to my nervous desire, I'll finish this glass and another before he prepares whatever he has planned for dinner.

He peers at me over the edge of his own glass. I watch as he elegantly takes a swallow. It's obvious that he moves the dark red liquid around in his mouth, stroking it over his tongue. I stare at the way he closes his eyes to savor its taste.

He finally takes my glass from my hand, places it down on a table with his and reaches for my hands. "I know we don't know each other very well, Tess, but I'm proud of you. I knew you'd nail that meeting with Gabriel."

I stare down at his hands as they softly hold mine. I can feel my body trembling. I know that he must sense it to. I pull in one heavy breath, hoping it will calm me enough that I'll be able to look at him without wanting to kiss him. "Thank you. I'm excited for the project."

"Look at me." His voice is so close. "Look at me, Tess."

I slowly pull my gaze up his shirt, noting how perfectly it molds to his body. I deliberately blink before I lock eyes with him. "I'm looking. It's hard not to look at you."

I hear the chuckle that escapes him before I see his lips part. His hand leaps to my chin and as he leans closer a small growl flows from his mouth into me as he pulls me into a deep kiss.

"Your body is perfect, Tess." His tongue lashes against my folds again. The sensation pulls a deep moan from a place within me that I never even knew existed. I bury my face in the soft, blue, sheets of his bed to try and temper the sounds I'm involuntarily making.

He'd kissed me in the other room before he ran his hands slowly down my sides. He'd stopped to cup my ass and the low moan that fell from my lips had been enough to make him pivot on his heel so he could guide me to his bedroom.

There was no rush to remove my clothing. He'd helped me step out of my dress, kissing my shoulders and neck before he unclasped the white bra I was wearing. He'd dove to taste my nipple, pulling the left swollen bud between his perfect teeth before he kissed his way to my right breast. He'd kneaded it so firmly that I'd reached down to quiet his grasp. He'd kissed the top of it then, stopping to suck on the nipple, pulling it to attention. It aches now, just as every other part of my body does.

He'd then pushed me onto my stomach before he pulled my lace panties off. I've never been in this position with a man before and as I felt his strong hand cup my sex, he'd whispered that he wanted me to arch my body. I had.

There wasn't any thought of being ashamed at how exposed I was. I didn't turn over to try and tempt him that way. I'd given him exactly what he wanted and as I turned my head to the side to watch him slide his clothes from his body, I'd felt nothing but desire.

He's beautiful and strong. His chest is smooth and when my eyes trailed along his abs to his muscular thighs, my breath caught at the sight of his cock. It's as flawless as every other part of him and as much as I want to feel it inside of me, I want to know the pleasure that his mouth is giving me now.

"Landon," I whisper his name into the sheets as he glides his tongue across my cleft.

"You're so wet. You're so smooth."

The words pull me onto my knees and as I push my wetness into his face, he grabs hold of my hips. I moan loudly, not caring that I sound wanting and needy.

"That's it." I feel his mouth leave my core. "Give it to me. Let me eat you until you come for me."

It's never been like this with a man. I've never let go so completely. As I push into him, I reach back to grab hold of his head, guiding it into my flesh.

I jerk forward the second I feel his fingers enter me and as he circles my swollen clit with his tongue, I cry out from the force of the approaching orgasm. I grab tightly to the pillow that's under my head, pulling at it as if it's going to quell all the sensations that are claiming my body.

I come hard. My legs shake so violently that I'm scared I'll fall forward. He holds tightly to me, licking me softly until my muscles settle.

"Again, Tess." His fingers run hot over my folds, spreading me apart. "Let me taste you again."

I can't. I can't form the words because every breath that I did have has fallen into the pillow with my cries of pleasure. I shake my head, hoping that he'll understand that my body is still on fire. If he touches me again, I'll be sent over the edge with an intensity that I know will overwhelm me.

I whimper when I feel his strong hands grab hold of my hips. I cover my face when he flips me over easily and I wipe the tears away when he dives his tongue back into me sending me into another climax almost instantly.

***

"You're paying me back, aren't you?" His voice is different. It's deeper and gruff. There's no breath between the words.

I look down at him. The moisture resting on his top lip is a combination of my wetness and the sweat that's settled there as he's fought off his release.

After he ate me a second time, he ripped open a condom package, and sheathed his thick cock. He'd pulled my legs apart, telling me that he'd go slowly.

I shook my head, asking him to stop and without a moment's hesitation he had. He'd crawled up next to me, kisses covering the side of my face and forehead as he pulled me into his arms. I'd held onto him, wanting to look at his eyes but knowing that my own would betray the intensity that I still felt.

When my breathing finally leveled, I'd pushed him onto his back, before I slid myself on top of his body. I'd mounted his face, wanting him to bring me back to the edge. He hadn't hesitated. He grabbed my thighs and licked me with the same fury he had earlier.

I was close, so close, when I slid down his body and pulled his cock to my core. I held it in my hand and as I lowered myself onto it. He cursed between clenched teeth, his hands holding fast to the bed sheets.

Now, as I rock back and forth, I pull him deeper with each thrust.

"You're so tight." He closes his eyes, arching his back to gain more depth. "Fuck me harder, Tess."

I groan from the request. I lean forward, resting my hands on his chest as I slide my body along his. I glide forward, then back, each time plunging myself onto him.

"I'm so close." His eyes open slowly. "You're so fucking beautiful."

I smile at the words, knowing that they're not grounded in his pleasure. It's different with him. I can sense how he sees me. His kiss and his touch can't hide it.

His hands grip tightly to my hips, forcing me down onto his swollen cock. "I'm going to come, Tess."

I want to come too so I reach down and lean back. I circle my clit with my index finger, honing in on the spot I know brings me the most pleasure. His eyes follow the trail of my hand and as he focuses on what I'm doing to myself, his cock swells within me.

"Jesus, that's hot." He arches his neck so he can watch me. "Keep doing that. Don't stop."

I can't. I'm just as close to an orgasm as he is and as I throw my head back and pump myself against him, I cry out his name as I come just a second before he does.

"I can put my own clothes back on." I yank on the hem of the t-shirt he gently pulled over my head after I got up from the bed. "I mean, I don't mind leaving if you have things to do."

He closes his eyes briefly as he adjusts the dark sweat pants he put on. "I'd like you to stay."

I smooth my hands over my hair. "I want to stay. I can stay."

"Come with me then." His hand stretches out before me. "You can watch me while I make dinner for us."

I take his hand, relishing in both the strength of his touch and the knowledge that he used it just moments ago to touch me. I want to tell him that it was an intense experience for me. I want him to know that it was a gift but I can't. I don't want him to see me as anything but mature, experienced and a woman he wants to be intimate with again.

He stops before we exit the bedroom. He drops my hand, crouching down to help me step into my panties. I run my hand through his hair as a silent thank you for the thoughtful gesture.

We move quietly through the apartment before he points to one of two leather stools that are sitting next to an island in the kitchen. I take a seat as he pours me a glass of sparkling water.

"How was your trip?" I finally ask after taking a drink. "I should have asked that when I spoke to you on the phone earlier."

He turns quickly from where his head has been buried in the refrigerator. "It was good. It's always good."

If that’s the life of a pilot it's completely boring. It's not what I expected. I've never known anyone who worked as a pilot, but I've heard the rumors. "Do you ever hook-up with the flight attendants?"

That stops all movement on his part. The eggplant that he was reaching to place on the counter next to the refrigerator hangs in his hand in mid-air.

"I was just wondering," I say under my breath as I bring the glass to my lips, swallowing too large of a gulp.

He turns cautiously, his eyes meeting mine as soon as he's facing my direction. "Did you just ask me if I ever have sex with the women I work with?"

I'm not sure how to answer that or even if it's a real question as opposed to a rhetorical one. He obviously heard me. I simply shrug my shoulders and take another sip of the water.

He places the eggplant down as he takes a few heavy steps towards me. When he reaches the kitchen island where I'm seated, he rests his elbows on the edge of the counter. He leans forward, his tongue smoothing a path across his upper lip. "You want to know if I've ever fucked a flight attendant on the plane, Tess? Is that what you're asking me?"

I close my eyes tightly to ward off the mental image of him fucking anyone else. I know that we're not serious and this could end tomorrow, but I want the memory of what happened in his bed today to be untarnished. If I mess that up, it's my own fault for being too curious.  "No. I just wanted to know if you…I was curious about whether pilots…"

"Tess." The movement of his hand brushing across my cheek pulls my eyes open. "Don't ask me about other women and I won't ask you about your popstar ex-boyfriend."

I nod through a smile. "I won't."

"Promise?" He leans forward to kiss me. "Promise me we'll leave our past relationships in the past."

"I promise," I whisper as I pull him into a deep kiss.

***

"You're a really good cook." I wipe my lips with the linen napkin he placed over my lap when I first sat down at the dining room table.

He'd lit several small candles before he dimmed the lights and poured me a glass of wine. The trout he prepared was succulent and the roasted vegetables that accompanied it were divine. I'm stuffed, content and relieved that all of our conversation since I brought up other women has been centered on my upcoming work in Los Angeles for Gabriel.

"I travel so much." He pushes the empty plate in front of me to the side. "I have to eat out a lot so when I'm home, I love to prepare my own food."

"Is your mom a good cook too?" It's a misplaced question but I've been struggling not to ask him outright about his mother and brother. I'd studied the photographs again when he was busy preparing dinner and it's obvious that his relationship with them changed dramatically after his father's death. That, or they just stopped wanting to document their family unit in pictures after losing him.

His eyes scan my face as if he's searching for some clue about where that question came from. He traces the outline of his fork on the table with his index finger. "She cooked a lot when I was young."

"She doesn't cook for you anymore?" I push, knowing that I'm wandering into a place that I have no right to be. "Does she live in New York?"

His hand pulls away from the fork as he fists it. "She lives in Boston. I don't talk to her very often."

"Why not?"

He doesn't look up from his plate. It's as empty as mine so anything he sees there has little to do with food and more to do with the jumbled dynamics of his relationship with his mom. "I'm busy. She's busy. She was in Paris visiting my brother."

"Your brother lives in Paris?" It's a tangent I didn't expect to go on but I'm going to follow-up every detail he's throwing my way.

"He's been there for a few months. He's coming back to New York soon." He looks past me to the framed photographs. "He's getting married. He's having a baby."

"That's exciting," I offer quietly. "You'll be an uncle."

His shoulders surge forward as I say the words. He shakes his head slightly. "An uncle?"

"Yes," I chuckle. "If your brother and his wife have a baby, you'll be the uncle."

He pushes the fingers of his left hand through his hair before they settle on his chin. "I hadn't thought about that. It never crossed my mind."

"Congratulations." I lift my wine glass in the air. "We should toast to that."

"No," he says gruffly as he pushes both of his hands against the edge of the table. "I can't."

I lower the glass back down as I watch his tall frame disappear around the corner.