Toy Boy (11 page)

I glanced across the harbor. I had plans on having my wicked way with him later. Not that he knew that yet. But the thought sent a flicker of arousal through my system.

We arrived at the small restaurant and were quickly seated. It was a romantic table in the corner and against the small beach. The sun had been replaced by a creamy crescent moon that hung over the entrance to the port.

Sullivan ordered a bottle of wine then handed me a menu.

“The fish here is superb, but the lamb, I just can’t resist.” He shut his menu, decided.

“Mmm. I think I’ll go with your recommendation. Plenty of other ports to sample fish.”

“Good call.”

The waiter, who was hovering nearby, took our order and returned with a bottle of red wine. He poured then set small clay bowls full of bread olives on the table.

“Can I ask you a serious question?” I said.

“Ask away.” He set his drink aside and placed his elbows on the table, his fingertips just touching his chin.

“Sullivan, you own mirrors, right?”

“Er, yeah.”

“And you’re not blind, so you must know how good looking you are.”

“And cute as a button.” He laughed.

I kept a straight face. “Yes, so how come…” I paused. “How come you haven’t got a queue of women lining up? I know you and Sherry split a while back, but come on, you’re a seriously eligible bachelor. You have your own business, plenty of money, and you don’t have any weird baggage. Why no line of girls?”

He laughed again. “Well, thanks for that.”

“I’m being serious.”

His smile dropped. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“What?”

“You’re right. I don’t ever have to go to an event on my own if I don’t want to. I have plenty of numbers in a little black book, but that’s all they are, numbers. I don’t dial them, I didn’t even ask for them. Girls give them to me, friends give them to me. ‘Let’s meet up for a drink. You should meet my friend so-and-so, she’d be perfect for you.’ But that’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“You.” He reached forward and took my hand. “But you know that.”

“But why? Why me?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“Yes, I do. If this, us, is anything, I need to know why you’d choose me over a young thing who’s all sweet and pretty and, well…your age.”

“Okay, first off, I’ve already chosen you, that’s not up for negotiation. As for why…” He sighed and looked down at the tablecloth. “I had a shit break up with Sherry. I’ve told you all about that and her two-timing, but since then, well, it didn’t go any better with the next few women I dated, who were, by the way, in their twenties.”

“Why not? What happened?”

He looked up at me. “One, I was pretty damn sure was only interested in my money. She was so materialistic. Everything had to be a designer brand. She’d have bought Gucci toilet paper if she could have. It just wasn’t for me, that mentality.”

I nodded. That wasn’t something I could have lived with, either. “And the other one?”

“She was stunning, a model.”

I took a sip of wine. I couldn’t compete with that. “Oh, I see.”

“But that was it. There was no more substance to her than her looks.” He rolled his eyes. “I feel horrible saying it, but she just had zero personality. It was as if her beauty was such a big part of her, she’d given up on the rest. Conversations ran dry, anything I suggested we do, she complained about risking breaking a nail or messing up her hair, and then…”

“And then?”

“And then I met you online and my life changed.” He reached forward and took my other hand so that he held both. “I’m not messing with you, Kay. When I said you were perfect for me, I meant it.”

I looked into his eyes. A lock of hair had fallen across his right eyebrow, and the pointed end just skimmed his lashes.

“The thing is,” he went on, “you don’t need my money, you have your own. You are also beautiful and full of personality. You’re clever, you’re an achiever, and you are, I suspect, as in need as me of someone to wake up with each morning and go to sleep with each night. Don’t get me wrong, you want Gucci toilet paper, I’ll buy you it, but I don’t think that’s what you’re after.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not.”

“But companionship, fun, love… I think you want that as much as I do.”

A tightening behind my sternum warned of an impending sob. “That’s exactly what I want.”

“We’re on the same page, don’t you see? But we’ve talked about this.”

“Yes.” I blinked rapidly, my eyes dampening. “I know.”

“Lots of times. That’s why we’re here. We have the same ideas for the future, of life. We’re compatible.”

“Here we are, madam, sir.”

I looked up. The waiter was at our side, holding two large white plates. His image was slightly misted through my teary eyes.

Sullivan released my hands and sat back. He didn’t take his gaze from me.

The waiter put down our meals. “I hope you enjoy.”

“Oh, we will,” Sullivan said. “Thank you.”

The smell of the lamb was amazingly rich, and my mouth watered as my eyes stopped fogging up.

“Just go with it, Kay,” Sullivan said, tipping forward again. “This week was all about being together. I thought we were solid already but you threw that assumption into a tailspin for me yesterday. But maybe…” He paused and appeared to struggle to find the right words. No doubt not wanting to get knocked back again.

Damn, had I really bruised his confidence?

I spoke for him. “Maybe now that I’m getting used to seeing how young you are—”

“You might stop feeling shocked and see me, the guy you’ve been having a long-distance relationship with for the last year. And I’m not that young, for heaven’s sake, in another fifteen months, I’ll be thirty. That doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?”

“I guess not.” I nodded.

“Would you rather I’d been much older, bald, fat?” He blew up his cheeks and pulled his hair flat against his head.

I laughed, tension leaving my body on the expired breath. “No, no, not at all.”

“Good.” He picked up his knife and fork. “Because I’m not into fatty fast food, and I kinda like having hair on my head.” He smiled. “Eat, you’ll love it.”

“I’m sure I will.” And I wasn’t talking about the food.

As we ate, Sullivan told me about his mother’s sister who ran a ski hotel in Aspen. He’d skied there every year during his childhood. He wanted to take me sometime. The views, apparently, were amazing.

He talked, ate and drank. I did the same. I adored his voice, I always had, and seeing the hand gestures he used after so long of talking on the telephone, was wonderful. I adored his hands, his wrists, those bracelets he wore and the way the tendons in his forearms tensed and the golden hairs lay on his skin.

The lamb was spectacular, as he’d promised it would be. I ate it all, mopping up the sauce with salted bread.

“Gives you an appetite, doesn’t it?” Sullivan said, resting his cutlery down.

“Being out at sea? Yes, it certainly does. And that was delicious.” I sat back, finished.

“Do you want dessert? Ice cream perhaps?”

“No.” I took a sip of wine. “I’ve had plenty, really.”

“Shall I get the check? Or do you want to sit for a while longer?”

“I want to go to bed.”

He tilted his chin a fraction.

I saw him swallow.

“Are you tired?” he asked, quietly.

“No, not really.” An excited flush traveled over my skin and my stomach tensed.

His eyes widened a little.

“Meet me.” I stood, aware of my nipples scraping against the inside of my bra. “In the hotel room in five minutes.”

He opened his mouth but didn’t speak.

“Is that okay?” I asked.

“Yes, yes of course.” He reached for my wrist. “Kay.”

“What?”

“Are you sure?”

“If you’re sure we can be good together—”

“Better than good.”

I smiled and did what I’d been wanting to do all evening. I touched that lock of hair that was curled by his eye and pushed it back. “You’re you, Sullivan Cole—the man I’ve been dreaming of for months. Come to my room and be that person. Remind me of how we were.”

“I will.” He released my wrist. “I promise.”

I walked away, gripping my shawl. Anticipation grew with every step. Excitement built and a heat grew in my sex. My mind was whirring, my body demanding.

This was really going to happen.

Chapter Ten

I changed into the sexy black negligee, brushed my hair and teeth and removed my necklace. I looked in the mirror. My eyes were bright and my cheeks flushed. I looked different, as if I were a little wild and adventurous, sultry, too. I’d made a decision and I was going to go for it.

The room was warm, so I opened the balcony doors. A whispering breeze floated in, and the curtains wafted lazily. I stood, not on the balcony, but on the smooth, tiled floor just inside the room, and studied the stars. The sky was black, the stars like tiny silver stitches sewn across it.

It was as if all my senses were on high alert. The murmur from the restaurant, I knew, was quieting now, but it sung in my ears. The smells of food, the sea, the flowers were a strong, heady scent. The flutter of air over my arms, chest, legs, was like a gentle caress, and each individual tiny hair reacted to it.

I waited. I’d waited so long for this. For Sullivan.

My back was to the hotel room door that I’d left unlocked.

I waited.

Despite being completely still, my rapid breaths shifted my breasts against my negligee. My heart was a fraction faster than normal, and I could feel it against my sternum. My legs felt not quite my own, as though they’d had an injection of adrenaline, and low down, deep in my womb, a tug of longing was building up to an insistent pull. A desire for more of everything Sullivan had to offer.

An image of Thomas suddenly flitted before me, his face up there in the stars. I’d loved him with everything that I was. I would always love him.

His death had ripped my life to shreds, fractured my soul and torn my heart in two.

But now it was time, long overdue time, to remember that I was still alive. Blood pumped healthy and vital around my body. I had love to give, voyages to travel. I was still here, on this earth. I had memories to make and happiness to find.

I heard a click then the slight creak of the door.

I caught my breath but didn’t look over my shoulder.

Another click as the door shut.

The flick of the lock.

I resisted the temptation to ball my fists and instead, stood with my arms at my sides, staring out at the inky harbor reflecting the night sky. The slight ripples made the stars’ mirrored images shiver and blur.

There was a rustle of clothing. The sound of keys jumbling onto the dresser.

I bit on my bottom lip.

Waited.

“Kay,” Sullivan said, quietly. “Do you have any idea how much you mean to me? How much
this
means to me?”

He moved behind me, right up close but not quite touching. The air from his breaths tickled my right shoulder, and his body heat radiated onto my back.

“So show me,” I said.

He paused, then, “Close your eyes.”

I did as he’d asked.

“Remember,” he said, “how we used to talk on the telephone?”

“Yes.”

“Imagine now, that you’re home, in bed, your cell propped against your ear. A candle lit in the room, everything silent except for my voice.”

I pictured my room—smart cream curtains, matching bed linen and tasteful walnut furniture. When I put the pink lamp on, the light from it made my room glow golden and cozy.

“We’re talking,” he murmured. “One of those late night talks where we’ve discussed our days, our plans, and I tell you that I’m feeling sexy, that I wish you were there, next to me. That I wish you were there for me to make love to and not halfway around the world and so out of reach.”

His voice, all lazy and sexy, was transporting my emotions to our dirty conversations. “Yes,” I whispered.

“You’d ask me to describe what I’d do, and I’d picture you, all pretty and sweet, lying in bed with me, dressed in black lace, your hair spread out on the pillow and your eyes full of love and lust and desire…for me.”

My belly clenched and my sex pulsed.

“I’d start by kissing you,” he went on. “Your mouth, your neck, the sweet spot where your necklace sat tonight… And while I did that, I’d explore your body, the way you would mine. Tracing contours, adoring every inch, learning which bits makes you gasp and groan. I’d make you squirm for more, find that place between your legs that made you pant and be unable to kiss me back because your entire body would be concentrating on pleasure.

“Then I’d enter you. You’d hold my cock so tight with your internal muscles that I’d feel like I’d been transported to Heaven. We’d stare down at where we’d joined, knowing it was perfect, that we were perfect.”

“Sullivan…” I opened my eyes and tried to turn.

“No.” He pressed his hands on my shoulders, keeping me still. “I haven’t finished.”

A small moan caught in my throat, and I stared out to sea. I’d waited so long for this. Denied us last night. Now I just wanted to get to the main event.

He slid his hands around my waist, his palms skimming over the silky material of the negligee, and his small rough patches of skin snagging slightly.

I leaned against him and was aware of the outline of his big, strong body, and his erection resting in the small of my back.

A shiver of longing went through me. I fought for patience, taking a deep breath.

“You see,” he said, right by my ear. “The best bit is when we start to fuck. We lose ourselves in each other. Whether we go fast or slow, in bed or somewhere risqué. When we fuck, only we exist, nothing else matters. No one else matters, not their opinions, not their problems, only us. Only us.”

“Only us,” I said, my voice breathy.

Suddenly, he swung me into the air and held me against his broad, bare chest.

“Oh.” I clasped my hands behind his neck.

“Enough talk,” he said. “Time for putting these plans into practice.”