Trainwreck 2 (Trainwreck #2) (42 page)

“Mr. Zander, you make me crazy!”
Crazy in love?
I wasn’t sure because I really didn’t know first hand what that meant. Feeling tingles everywhere? Shortness of breath? Fiery desire? Jealousy? A sense of loss when the other person is not there? That’s what my book heroines felt. And I felt all those things too.

I laughed. For sure, some kind of defense mechanism.

“Get over here, you!” he ordered, his eyes dancing with mischief. He wrapped his sculpted arms around me. With one swift smooth move, he hauled me against him and drove his rigid cock into me. My forehead fell onto his shoulder as he nibbled my soaked flesh and ravaged my soaked sex. He held me tightly, grinding ruthlessly. I moaned with pleasure. My arms circled his chiseled body, embracing the scars that lined his back. Our breathing grew harsh and he groaned my name. As this beautiful, controlling, complex man brought me to yet another earth-shattering climax, I was too distracted to think of all the complications he was bringing into my life.

We were both so exhausted. Jaime was still on East Coast time, and I truthfully didn’t know what time zone I was in. I just knew I was zoned out.

After room service, a light supper consisting of a delicious Salade Niçoise and bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé, we decided to call it a night. Jaime, clad in loose blue pajama bottoms that hung sexily low on his narrow hips, insisted on picking out my sleeping attire. The control freak!

My comfy pink and white striped PJ’s? Not a chance! Rifling through one of my overnight bags, he found a sheer, lace-trimmed black and white polka dot baby doll set from the Gloria’s Secret “Irresistible” collection. A sexy, diabolical grin whipped across his face upon coming across his treasure. “Perfection!” He expertly dressed me in the sexy sleepwear. It was hard for him to keep his mouth and hands off me, but I didn’t mind.

“Which bed?” asked Jaime, admiring his handiwork. “The client gets to pick.”

Typical of European boutique hotels, the charmingly furnished floral room had two double beds. I went for the one on the right closest to the French windows. He swept me into his arms and carried me to it, slipping me under the fluffy duvet. He followed me under the covers and snuggled close to my scantily clad body. The warmth of his flesh heated mine.

I rolled over to my side and propped myself up on my elbow. My eyes soaked in his face. His hooded blue eyes, his lush lips, and the strong angles of his stubble-laced jaw. God, he was gorgeous any way you looked at him. I dusted the tip of my braid across his dimpled chin, fighting off my hot desire to dip my tongue into the kissable indent.

“Mr. Zander, what I meant is… this is my bed. You sleep in the other one. Client’s wishes.” While we had fucked our brains out, sleeping with him in the same bed was strangely something I wasn’t ready for. It felt wrong. Even more so, it scared me.

Resting his head on the mountain of fluffy pillows, he cocked an eyebrow. “Gloria, you’ve got to be fucking kidding. I flew all the way to Paris to be with you, and you don’t want to sleep with me?”

I sat up and folded my arms across my chest. The way his eyes bore into mine was making this difficult. “No,” I said before changing my mind. “Go!” I aimed my pointer finger at the other bed.

He shot me that maddening smirk. “So, Ms. Long, before I unfortunately have to leave, can you tell me if I should put this room on my list of client expenses?”

“Stop procrastinating!” I playfully hit his bare chest with one of the pillows. When I thought about it more, I shouldn’t have been so frivolous. I was going to have to be extra careful working with Jaime, with his ruthless stepfather, Victor Holden, watching our every move.

“And should I bill time for this?” In a breath, he rolled on top of me, flattening me on the mattress. He smashed his lips against mine, with a fierce kiss that sent a rush of tingles to my center and then slipped his hand beneath my lace-trimmed bottoms. He fingered his way to my clit. I groaned.

“You don’t really want me to leave,” he breathed into my ear.

Confession: No, I didn’t. I was practically on fire. His fingers circled my bud vigorously, bringing me closer to imploding with each rotation. I fisted his silky hair and moaned, “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry,” he moaned back.

I could feel his cock hardening and elongating, growing thicker and hotter by the second. My body was desperate for him. Consumed with feverish desire, I moved one hand to the waistband of his pajama bottom and fumbled with the drawstring to loosen it.

“Good girl, Gloria,” he moaned as he raised his torso just slightly, enabling me to lower his bottoms. My hand skimmed his rock-hard ass.
What an ass!

“Lift up!” he ordered.

I did as bid, and he pulled down my baby doll bottoms as far as they would go. “I should have just torn them off you,” he mumbled under his breath as my feet wiggled out of them.

With a powerful thrust of his knees, he spread my legs wide apart and then plunged his hot, pulsing cock into me. A loud, satisfied sigh met his penetration.

“Oh, angel, you’re so wet and ready for me.” He anchored his hands on the mattress to support himself and began to pump in and out of me.

“So. Do. You. Still. Want. Me. In. The. Other. Bed?” he grunted with each determined bang.

“No!” I gasped. He was hitting my G-spot repeatedly. I was falling apart at the seams with ecstasy.

A triumphant smile splayed on his face. “That’s what I thought.”

He picked up his pace with each long, hard stroke. I gripped his perfect buns of steel, pressing them forward with his thrusts, though, trust me, assistance was the last thing he needed. I just needed something to hold on to—to keep me from leaving this planet. Whimpering and rocking with him, I clenched my eyes. Sparks were flying in my head as my body prepared to burst with out of this world pleasure.
Oh, God!
I was not going to last much longer.

“Gloria, open your eyes. I want you to watch me come.”

I did as he asked and drank in the intensity that lusted on his sweat-drenched face. His half-moon eyes sucked me in and his luscious lips parted with pants of desire. His pulsating cock let me know he was on the verge.

“Now!” he shouted. He let out a loud savage sound from deep inside him and arched his head. We climaxed together. His cock exploded while my core lit up like a disco with strobing bright colors. The song “Gloria” played in my head.
Oh, oh, oh, calling Gloria.

“Oh, Gloria. That was fucking amazing.”

Yes, it was. It was fucking amazing.

Catching his breath, he sunk his head into the thick fold of my cleavage. I wrapped one arm around his sweat-soaked body and threaded the fingers of the other through his damp, tousled locks. Closing my eyes, I hummed the melody of “Gloria.” All the voices in my head were calling his name.

Repositioned on my back, my head resting on his rugged bare chest, I asked him something that had been on my mind. “Mr. Zander, are you into the whole BDSM lifestyle?”

He chuckled. “No. In fact, I’m not really a dom.”

My brows furrowed. “What do you mean?” His controlling behavior mirrored that of many of the erotic book boyfriends I had.

“My shrink says I’m a just a creative control freak with kinky tendencies.”

Semantics.

“Do you get off on physically hurting women?” My heartbeat accelerated going into this dangerous territory. Given that his mother had destroyed his beloved father, the psychologist in me thought it was likely though he’d never physically harmed me.

“Whatever way you call it, I’m strictly BD without the SM.” He planted a tender kiss on my cheek. “Besides, angel, you’re like the lace you wear. Beautiful and fragile, easily torn. I could never hurt you.”

Inwardly, I heaved a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure I could put up with the inflicted pain I’d read about in those BDSM novels. I’d already had enough emotional and physical pain in my life. The lace analogy struck a deep chord inside me.

He played with my braid. “So I assume after that mind-blowing fuck it’s okay for me to sleep with you.” A statement not a question.

“Don’t assume anything.”
Mr. Presumptuous!
I had to show him that I had some power. That he couldn’t always fuck me into submission.

We had a stare-off. His intense denim blues and cocky half smile were wearing me down. God, he was sexy and beautiful! Every nerve was buzzing. I wanted him all over me again. Finally, before I caved in, I said, “If you don’t leave this bed, I will.”

“You’re a tough client.” With a roll of his eyes, he climbed out of the bed and nestled into the other one to my left. He turned off the overhead light between us.

“Sweet dreams, Ms. Long.”

“Sweet dreams, Mr. Zander,” I mimicked before drifting off.

I’m running through a black tunnel. I can see nothing in front of me, nothing behind me. My legs propel me as fast as they can; my lungs burn. My heavy breaths and footsteps pierce the darkness. I can’t let him find me. I can’t! Suddenly, footsteps thunder behind me. I steal a glance backward; I see nothing, but the footsteps are getting louder and faster; they’re gaining on me. I try to run faster, but my legs won’t let me.

“Nobody steals from Boris Borofsky!” The accented voice booms behind me. “You will pay!”

“No!” I scream silently. I must escape. Oh God, where is the light? Where is the end? Will I always be on the run?

A deafening blast echoes in the endless chamber of darkness. And then another. A bolt of white light scorches through my body. Red-hot liquid streams down my flesh. I keep running. I must keep running! I can never stop running! Oh the pain!

Screaming, I bolted to an upright position. The hot liquid in my dream was now a rush of cold sweat, and it was pouring out of every crevice of my quaking body. Two strong arms wrapped around my drenched torso and pulled me against a slab of rippled, warm flesh.

“Gloria, what is it? Are you okay?” Jaime’s deep, velvety voice filtered into my ear. I let myself sink into him, shuddering against his manly, hard chest. His warmth blanketed me.

I took several deep, calming breaths just like my shrink instructed me to do after one of these mind-shattering dreams. Words, however, stayed trapped in my throat.

Still holding me, Jaime smoothed my damp, matted hair.

“It’s okay, angel. I’m here. Why are you shaking?”

I moistened my parched palate with my tongue and found my voice. “It was just a bad dream.”
My forever nightmare
.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” His voice was soft and full of compassion.

“I can’t.” At least right then, I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to confide in this man—to tell him my secret. Though he had shared his scars, mine was still my cross alone to bear-with the exceptions of Kevin, who had lived it, and Madame Paulette, who had taken it to her grave.

“Come on, let’s go back to sleep.” He gently lowered me to the bed, and tucked me back in like a child. He kissed me lightly on the lips before lowering himself next to me.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I whispered.

His beautiful agile fingers traced my face. “Gloria, I’m not going to ravage you. I’m just going to hold you. You need me. Now roll over.”