Strung Out (10 page)

He didn’t wait for her reaction, dipping low and slipping fingers into her slit. Her legs parted automatically, giving him access to her body. Her outer labia were warm and damp, giving way to his probing and parting to reveal the slick surface of her inner labia. Using two fingers, he straddled her clit and used an up-and-down motion to create friction without allowing her the completion of direct pressure.

Her back arched, thrusting her breasts upward. Nipples beaded into hard points before his eyes, the rosy flesh puckering into tight buds perfect for suckling. It took monumental effort to remain still. But he wanted to watch. To see the muscles in her abdomen tense as her body quested toward his.

Eyes tightly closed, her face betrayed the need twisting throughout her limbs. Her legs moved restlessly, and her hands clenched and unclenched. He increased his pace, delving deeper into her body, tempting himself with the tight entrance to her channel.

Tiny gasps slipped from between her lips, and the pace of her breathing increased until her breasts were rising and falling in tempo with the fingers Erik used in her cunt. Her scent rolled across his consciousness, and he became more aware of Talia at that moment than he had ever been with another person in his life.

She reached out, long fingers gripping his forearm. Ignoring the silent plea, he continued his pace, coaxing her body to his will. The muscles in her slit flexed against him, feinting and grasping beneath his onslaught.

Talia whimpered. The broken sound was like the lash of a whip. He was dimly aware that his cock was hard again. The urge to roll her beneath him and sink his shaft deeply into her pleasurable heat was strong. But he wanted this, to see her come with her need and her release naked before him.

An erotic perfume filled the air around them. Her blue eyes snapped open, gaze locking with his as she stiffened. Her back arched violently, hips bucking against his hand. Erik plucked at her clit, rubbing against it as her orgasm swept them both.

Overcome, he took her mouth in a kiss. The taste of her release was sweet on her lips. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers twining in his hair. He was surprised to realize he was short of breath as though he had come with her, though his cock was still hard and ready.

Erik hugged her close, tangled his hands in her long hair, and tried to remember what it was like to be unaffected.

* * *

Soap bubbles drifted lazily upward, disappearing once they’d mingled with the cherry blossom-scented steam from the hot water in the bathtub. Talia reclined in the luxurious concoction of creamy bath gel and salts, trying to quiet the sense of unease that had begun creeping over her.

It felt weird to be relaxing in a tub of hot bath water in the middle of the day. Not that she had ever spent much time in a bathtub to begin with. Her apartment didn’t have one and neither had her school dormitory. Before that, foster homes weren’t known for their stellar facilities. In the old days, she’d counted herself lucky to get a few minutes of hot water in a shower. Now she relished the sensation of hot water leeching the soreness from muscles unused to the type of workout she’d put them through in the last twenty-four hours. And that included the pleasant tenderness between her legs.

Talia pushed her toes up onto the smooth edge of the tub. The thing was round. She’d never imagined people actually had round bathtubs, at least not ones they used. She wasn’t completely naive. She and Leslie had seen pictures of high-end bathrooms in magazines offering high-priced luxury condos. And there was the stuff you saw on television. But that was Hollywood. Who would’ve thought people actually lived in rooms like this?

The round, pale tub was decorated with colorful bits of glass tile and set into the corner beneath two honest-to-goodness stained glass windows. It was flanked on either side by wood pillars that matched the dark cabinetry along the other walls. One side of the mottled gray and white granite countertop was filled with Erik’s masculine toiletries; the other side was bare of the feminine essentials it had been designed to hold.

Talia shivered despite the hot water. How deluded was she to immerse herself so fully in a relationship with an unavailable man? This would be Courteney’s bathroom. The blonde would lounge in a tub full of scented bubbles while Erik showered in the glass stall just a few steps away. Her cosmetics would litter the granite countertop, and her clothes would hang next to his in the roomy walk-in closet. This was Courteney’s ever after, not Talia’s.

Water closed over her head, and reality was dulled by the serene stillness below the surface. Strands of her long hair tangled together, and she knew she’d pay the price later on when it came to combing the mess. Talia’s lungs burned for want of fresh air, but she didn’t want to go back up. She didn’t want to face the facts.

Moments later she emerged in a tidal wave of bubbly water. Droplets splashed down her cheeks, catching in her eyelashes and running off her chin. A steady river of water sloshed over the side of the tub, pooling between the odd-shaped pieces of colored tile before dripping slowly to the floor.

She was struck by the urge to hurry through the rest of her bath so she’d have time to clean up the mess on the floor. Did rich people clean their own floors? How did that work exactly? Would the water just sit there until the cleaning lady came? How ridiculous was that? Why not just clean up your own mess?

I don’t belong here.

Talia rose from the tub, water streaming from her naked skin. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it securely around her body before fiddling with the tub drain to let the water out. Careful not to splash, she stepped onto the soggy bath mat and hurried to dry off.

A fluffy robe hung to one side of the chair where she’d dumped her pile of discarded clothing. She’d intended to take a shower, but one comment about keeping a swimming pool in his bathroom had landed her in the bathtub instead. Erik hadn’t been willing to take no for an answer.

The last of the water drained out with a
gurgle
and
hiss
, leaving the cavernous room silent. The low hum of the television news drifted back through the bedroom. The tile floor was cold against her bare feet as she hopped on one foot at a time to yank on her clothes. It took only a second to gather her knotted hair into a messy bun. According to her watch, it was after five o’clock. Way past time to go. She sucked in a deep breath and tried to prepare herself. Facing Erik would be tricky.

Talia pushed open the bathroom door to find the bedroom empty. She kept her eyes averted from the bed with its rumpled sheets. It was impossible to keep a clear head if all she could do was replay images from earlier over and over again.

She stuffed her feet into her shoes and headed for the door. The television grew louder, mingled with sounds that belonged in a kitchen with plates, knives, and forks. Her stomach rumbled suddenly, and she realized that wonderful smells came from the bar in Erik’s media room.

“A few more minutes and I was going to come in there and fish you out.” Erik leaned around the edge of the bar and grinned.

He was hard to figure out. There was no artifice in his smile. But some instinct deep in her gut warned there was something else going on, something she wasn’t quite getting.

Food covered every available inch of the bar top. It took a moment to process, but it looked as though he’d called a French bakery and ordered everything on their menu. Flaky croissants, tarts, and fresh fruit overflowed a large platter at one end. A variety of quiche and even a plate of petit fours filled others. The source of the mouthwatering smell was a tureen of some kind of soup on one end.

He moved in her direction, reaching for the television remote. “I know you’re starved. But I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I ordered a little bit of everything.”

Talia was overwhelmed. Was this really how these people lived? There was enough food for a dozen or more guests at a party. “I expected a pizza or maybe Chinese takeout. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

A slow smile curved his lips, and she was reminded of the first night they’d met. Everything had seemed so inevitable, but maybe the only inevitability about the two of them was the end.

He hadn’t put on anything but his pants. Without a belt, they rode low on his hips. The grooves on either side of his stomach drew her gaze lower to where the silky hair on his belly disappeared below his waistband. The man was lethal. She was attracted to everything about him, from the glint in his green eyes to the bare toes curling into the rug. If someone had asked her to define sexy, she would’ve said Erik Aasen.

But he wasn’t hers.

“You’re dressed.” His expression dimmed, and he crossed his arms over his bare chest.

She found it impossible to look him in the face. “Yeah, I have to work in the morning.”

“It’s barely five o’clock.”

Edging sideways until the leather sofa created a barrier between them, she gathered her courage and lifted her gaze to his face. “It’s pretty much the end of the weekend, Erik. We both knew it couldn’t last.” She looked around at the room and the food on the bar, wishing she had the words to say what she meant. “This place is amazing. But it isn’t mine. And neither are you.”

The words sat between them like a ticking bomb. But that’s what it was. Courteney was a ticking bomb. Soon she’d go off, and he’d allow himself to be leg-shackled to a woman he didn’t love to seal a corporate merger to make tons of money he probably didn’t even need.

He took two steps around the side of the couch. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

Her heart began to pound inside her chest, and her fingers grew icy cold. What was he talking about? How could it be any other way?

“I don’t want you to be a weekend fling, Talia.”

Hope rose, and she struggled to ask the most important question. “Then what do you want?”

“I want you here, with me.” He took two more steps, then another, and then he reached for her hand. “I want this to be your home. You deserve this and more.”

He reached for her, and she went willingly into his arms, wondering at his change of heart. How was it possible that he’d chosen her instead of his merger?

“I want to take care of you, Talia. See you every night. Make love to you every morning. I want you to be mine.” His arms were warm and reassuring around her body, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“So you’re going to take yourself off the bargaining table and risk the merger?” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

He chuckled. “There’s no need. Once she and I are married, I’ll get her a place of her own. Everything here will be yours. Courteney and I will be seen together in public when I can’t avoid it, and I’ll have the rest of my time to spoil you rotten.”

Something sharp and cold wedged itself into her heart. “So I’d be your mistress?”

“That’s not exactly how I’d put it. Neither of us are the traditional type. Those are just labels.”

So whore is just a label.

His cell phone buzzed, vibrating insistently as it bounced against the polished wood of an end table half a step away. Because fate wouldn’t have it any other way, Courteney’s name was emblazoned across the iridescent blue screen.

Erik made a low sound of annoyance. “Hang on just a minute. If I don’t answer, she’ll just keep calling.”

Talia’s vision narrowed until she was gazing down a tunnel stretching into the future. This scene, this situation, the feeling of always being second best was the most she could ask of this man.

It wasn’t enough.

Erik snagged the phone and answered, turning away and wandering across the room to gain some privacy. His voice held a note of placation. Obviously the ice princess was displeased. Well, so was Talia.

Turning on her heel, she headed for the stairs and didn’t look back.

Chapter Ten

The message light was blinking on her answering machine. In a world of cell phones and voice mail, Talia was hopelessly out of date. But cell phones were a luxury item that fell toward the bottom of her priority list.

She stared at the pulsing red light. It’d been blinking when she walked in the night before, but so far she’d managed to resist the temptation. She rarely received phone calls. And though she hadn’t given Erik her phone number, that didn’t mean he hadn’t somehow gotten hold of it.

Her fingers itched to push the Play button, to hear his voice once more. And to know what excuses he would make for the callous offer to trade her dignity for financial stability.

No. She turned decisively away from the promise of a blinking red light to rummage in her closet for clean clothes. She caught a brief glance of her reflection in the mirror and groaned. She looked like hell.

Sleep had been out of the question. She’d tossed and turned on her sagging mattress until the small hours of the night when she’d finally fallen into an exhausted doze only to dream of him. Not that her mind could be blamed for conjuring up images of Erik. Her bed smelled like sex on fire. There had even been a moment when she’d considered stripping the sheets and heading downstairs to the dingy Laundromat in her building.

She was already running behind when she locked her apartment door and hustled out into the cold morning. She passed the newspaper stand outside her building. The guy from upstairs pretended no one was looking while his dog pooped on the sidewalk, and two college students were squabbling over whether or not they had time to stop at the Dunkin’ Donuts around the corner.

Familiar was supposed to be comforting. It allowed a sense of belonging, of knowing where you were and where you were going. But that morning Talia was consumed with emptiness.

Hope came from knowing there was someone out there waiting for you. Despair was the knowledge that even though you’d brushed against that one perfect person, fate had determined it somehow wasn’t meant to be.

* * *

“Good morning, Mr. Aasen. Your coffee is on the desk with your morning schedule.”

His secretary’s name was Anita. Erik knew that. But he couldn’t have said if she was married or single or if she had any children. He only vaguely remembered reading her résumé when personnel had sent her over. The woman had a quick mind and a talent for keeping his schedule in order and the right papers on his desk. That’s what she was there for.