Until I'm Yours (21 page)

“Are you sure?”

He laughs against my neck, nudging the strap of my dress away from my shoulder with his chin and kissing the naked skin.

“Very.” His hands come up to cup my face, and he parts my lips, dipping inside, possessing me sweetly, then harder and deeper with every brush of our tongues. I strain against him, moaning into his mouth, drawing his tongue in deeper.

“What’s different?” I ask against his soft lips. “Why now?”

“Why are you hesitating?” His breath comes heavy as he pulls away the other strap of my dress until it gives way, falling to my waist, baring my breasts to him. His knuckles whisper over my nipples, and my knees almost buckle. I lean into him for support.

“Because…” I swallow, struggling to focus. “Because I want it to be right between us. It means too much not to be.”

He leans down to whisper in my ear.

“That’s why now.”

I
didn’t plan this. I didn’t think it would be tonight, but now, hearing her wrestle with whether she’s good enough for me, I know it should be. It has to be. Even though things were undeniably awkward with Fleur present, I loved having Sofie at my side tonight. Everything is richer and brighter with her. Awards and honors don’t do much for me anymore. It’s never been why I do the things I do, but my chest stuck out like a peacock’s accepting that award tonight because
she
was there. Because
she
saw me receive it.

I loved seeing her in my world. It made me realize how much I want to keep here there, and even though her life is about to become a giant clusterfuck after this meeting about Manchester tomorrow, I want to be in it with her. No matter what. If I try to put this into words, I’ll screw it up. I’ll scare her away. I’ll freak her the fuck out. But if I tell her with my body—with my hands, with my mouth, with any part of me that can reach any part of her—she’ll know.

“Take me to your bedroom.” I leave the breath-wrapped words, half plea, half command, in the fragile shell of her ear.

She looks up at me, and if it were anyone but Sofie, I’d swear her eyes are shy. The bodice of her dress hangs around her hips, and she crosses her arms over her breasts. Her eyes flit from me to the floor, then back up and around her apartment.

“You’re sure?” She tucks the fullness of her bottom lip between her teeth.

I didn’t think it would be like this. I’m not dumb or blind or stupid. I’ve known for weeks this is what she wants, and I can barely walk straight every time we’re in a room together, so she must know how much I want it, too. I just wanted it to be the right time; when it would mean as much to her as it would to me.

And now it does.

I’m glad we waited and didn’t just one-night-stand our way to something less than this will be. I turn her in the direction I know leads to her bedroom, pressing my chest to her naked back, crossing my arms across her waist and walking her down the hall. Her small steps forward are driving me crazy because I can’t wait to unwrap this gift I’ve been saving. I content myself with nibbles at her neck and kisses across her shoulders until we enter her darkened bedroom.

She walks ahead of me, using one arm to turn on the lamp and one arm to cover her breasts. Is this the girl who posed for
Playboy
? The one who, without blinking, autographs the copies horny boys thrust in her face? If they could see her now. Actually, I’d want to gouge out the eyes of anyone who saw her now. Not just the half-naked perfection of her body, but the vulnerability of her eyes in these moments before I take her and she takes me. I want this just for me and just for her. These are the most intimate moments of my life and we still have our clothes on.

I walk deeper into the room and stop in front of her, pulling her arm away from her breasts. The cool air piques her nipples to tight, pink points. Or maybe it’s my stare that does that, because I can’t look at anything else for a few moments. My fingers find the zipper at the base of her spine, tugging until the dress falls to the floor.

I’m thirty-five years old. I’ve seen more naked bodies than I can remember, but everything, everyone else, is pale and distant next to this woman. The elegant slope of her shoulders, the full curve of her breasts with their pouty nipples. The dramatic cinch of her waist swelling into the curve of her hips. The long, toned stretch of those famous legs. I hate it when they call her the Goddess because she’s flesh and blood and bone, and I want to know
her
, not just her body. But seeing her in this faint light, standing tall in nothing but a lacy black thong, I get it. I understand why they call her the Goddess.

I sink to my knees, looking up to find her eyes soft and hot on me. With our eyes still melded, I slide my tongue over the sleek muscles in her stomach. Her indrawn breath spurs me on to dip my head, with my teeth pulling the strips of lace at her hips aside and down. My fingers take over, pushing the panties over her thighs and knees until they land around her ankles, resting on her shiny shoes. She steps out of them, standing on one leg and kicking the other back to take off her shoes.

I give her a gentle push to the bed, prying her legs open and dusting kisses over the insides of her thighs, behind her knees, over the finely made ankles and the high arch of her foot. She’s gasping, panting, whispering my name.

She tugs at my hair, pulling me up to her mouth and kissing me deep, her tongue pushing into my mouth and across my teeth. She’s biting and sucking my lips. Her hands are frantic, pushing at my jacket, sliding it down my arms. She flicks the buttons of my shirt open. My breath stops in my throat when her nails scrape across my abs and then drift down to my zipper. She jerks it down, her eyes on me, all shyness absent. She pushes down my pants until they pool around my knees. Her eyes, hungry, hot, eager, touch on every part of me she has revealed.

“You are so beautiful, Bishop.”

Her voice is soft, almost reverent. No one has ever looked at me like this, ever said my name quite that way. We’ve only touched, only kissed, and I’m already more satisfied than I’ve ever been with any woman before her, and yet still ravenous.

She stands, pulling me to my feet and then pushing me to sit on the bed. My pants and shoes come off, her hands caressing, her mouth worshipping the same way I worshipped her. When she reaches the band of my briefs, her fingers hover and a wicked smile takes over her sweet lips. She pulls them over my thighs, her eyes widening when she sees me for the first time.

“Oh me oh my.” She sighs and wraps her hands around me, her grip sure and tight. “Tonight had its stresses.”

What the hell is she talking about? I can’t hold any sane thought with her hands stroking up and then down, up and then down. I grunt in response, my eyes tightly closed.

“It was so stressful,” she continues, her breath hot on the most vulnerable part of me, “I skipped dessert.”

Before I can tell her it may not be a good idea, that I might not last if she does this, she takes me in her mouth and down her throat.

“Fuck.” Her mouth working at me, the pull and suck, wrench the imprecation from me. “Sofie…fuck.”

“That’s next”—she lets me go long enough to assure me—“I like my dessert first.”

Just when I’m sure I’ll erupt in her mouth, my fingers fisted in her hair, she releases me and stands to her feet, licking her shiny lips.

“You taste better than that cheesecake.” A husky laugh passes her lips, and she runs the tips of her fingers over her breasts, down her stomach, and past her thighs. “Do you want to touch me, Bishop?”

I answer with my hands, running them over the muscles in her butt and thighs, sliding them over her breasts. I slip my hand into the tight cove between her legs, thrusting one finger into the slick heat.

Her head drops back, her hips flexing with the motion of my finger.

“Bishop, I’m ready. I’m so ready.”

“Are you sure, Sof?” I ask hoarsely. “You seemed hesitant before.”

She captures my eyes with hers, not blinking or letting them go as she settles her knees on either side of my legs. I can’t believe this is finally going to happen.

“Dammit, Sof.” I rest my forehead against her neck. “Protection.”

A laugh drifts up from her throat.

“Are you going to think badly of me when I reach into my supply by the bed?”

I run my hand up her back, thrusting my fingers into her hair and holding her head still, holding her eyes with mine.

“Not as long as that’s just
my
supply from now on.”

Little pieces of her smile slowly fall away until her mouth is a sober line. She stretches to the bedside table, takes out and tears the foil packet, sliding the condom over me. Breath huffs past my lip at even that simple touch.

Eyes locked with mine, she slowly slides down over me, pressing her nose to mine.

“Only yours from now on, Bishop. I promise.”

It’s slow at first, a gentle rise and fall of her hips, but I’m pushing up deeper and harder with every motion. A small line sketches between her brows, and her top lip hides in the full curve of the bottom.

“Am I hurting you?” I ask.

“Good grief no,” she gasps, tipping her head back until her hair brushes my thighs. “I’m just…fuck.”

She rolls her hips into me, elbows hooked at my neck, breasts caressing my chest. Every thrust, every brush of our bodies, every slide in and out, stokes something between us. We become frantic, her cries, my pants, our breaths filling the room. I love how hard she rides me, how there are no inhibitions, only a complete immersion into this inferno of pleasure.

“Bishop, I…”She squeezes her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed pink, her lip between her teeth. “Ahhhh. Oh. Yes. Oh, yes.”

And I’m right behind her, coming so hard my vision goes bright. I grip her hips, still pumping over me. My hands slide over her sweat-slick thighs, up to her back, pressing her as close to me as I can manage. I cross my arms at her back, melding our bodies until not even a breath separates us.

With my head buried in her silvery hair, and the soft kisses she leaves at my neck and over my shoulders as we come down, I know I want nothing to ever separate us again.

T
hat door looks so good right now. Sitting here waiting to meet Shaunti Miller, at the precipice of an irreversible decision that will throw my life into chaos, that door looks so good. Two things stop me from getting up and strutting out that door and all the way back to my apartment. One, Halima’s words still have their hooks in my heart and echo in my head, provoking me to follow through on the conscience I’ve managed to ignore for most of my life. And, two, the man at my side, holding my hand and just being…there. Just being there for me, encouraging me to reach for that good Walsh assures me is in there somewhere.

If he says so.

Trevor’s thumb stroking my hand distracts me for a few seconds. We’ve been touching each other all morning. Last night he kicked down some door, invading an inner sanctum no one’s ever occupied. I can’t evict him. I don’t want to. Last night was…there aren’t words. Only emotions. Only these
feelings
I’ve never had before. I think the hardest thing about this morning’s meeting is the fear that it will get so bad once I go public with my story that I’ll lose this thing with Bishop. And it’s the sweetest, purest, most genuine thing I’ve ever had. Last night raised the stakes so high. Losing him now—I can’t wrap my head around that.

And as much as I don’t want to admit it to myself, it’s not just my head. It’s my heart, too. I can’t wrap my heart around losing him.

“You okay?” Trevor leans forward to peer at me. “I know this is hard, Sof, but it’s the right thing to do.”

“I know.” Nerves propel a laugh from me. “I’m not used to doing the right thing, so there’s a little bit of a learning curve here.”

Trevor brushes the hair back from my face, cupping my cheek and leaning forward to drop a soft kiss on my lips. I need more. I need something other than this sick panic gnawing through my insides, so I lean deeper into his kiss, hoping the hunger I always feel with him will distract me for just a little while. And it does, for a few seconds, as we nip and suck and lick into a kiss that both soothes and incites. He pulls away, laying his forehead against mine, his fingers brushing across my neck under my hair.

“Sofie Baston, you taste so sweet.” His breath mists my lips. “I may just eat you alive.”

“Yes, please.” I lay one more kiss against his lips, holding on to this sensation for as long as I can.

When I pull back, we grin at each other for a moment. This is special. This is different from anything I’ve had, and I realize that what he wanted for us, it’s happening. That we are learning each other, and loving what we learn, and wanting each other. We’ve become…I search for the word. For the way to describe how it feels to have my hand in his moments before I dive into a shit storm that could wreck everything I’ve worked for and everything I still want to have.

Close. There’s that word again. We feel close. It didn’t take long, and it’s not fully formed, but I want to keep walking in his direction as much as he wants to keep walking in mine. And even though it’s early, I know I want to be closer to him than I’ve been to the others.

The door opens. Not the one that offered me a way of escape, but the door that leads to chaos and mayhem and public humiliation. And maybe, finally, to some kind of justice.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Baston.” Karen Sims stands in her office door, motioning for me to come in. “I wanted to chat with Shaunti a little before you arrived.”

I stand, surprised my wobbly legs support me. Trevor stands with me, his hand at my back. We start walking toward Karen Sims, Shaunti’s lawyer.

“Just you, Ms. Baston.” Karen firms her mouth into a straight line, her eyes flicking between Trevor and me. “Shaunti is prepared to speak only with you, not anyone else.”

I’m about to yield, but the thought of going through this completely alone almost sends me through that other door. I need him with me.

“Ms. Sims, I really must insist that Mr. Bishop come in with me.” I staunch the anxiety in my chest before it makes it to my face. “I came here without my lawyer, my publicist, my manager, without anyone from my team. I’m talking to you of my own free will, and I’m risking a lot. I’m risking things Shaunti isn’t risking anymore, so again, I must insist.”

For a moment Karen Sims looks like she’ll rebuff me, but she must realize the line between my stony expression and the hand holding Trevor’s is my line in the sand. My take it or leave it line. She doesn’t look happy about it, but she nods and gestures for Trevor and me to precede her into the office.

Inside the office, Shaunti Miller sits in one of three seats across from Karen’s desk. Trevor and I take the other two. I study her for a moment. A headband holds her dark brown hair away from her face. She wears a bit of pink lipstick and some mascara, but otherwise no makeup. She’s paired a long-sleeved PTA T-shirt and a pair of jeans, faded in places. On her feet she wears pink-and-teal Asics.

She’s staring at me, which I can’t resent because I was doing the same. I offer a tentative smile, which she returns.

“Shaunti Miller,” Karen says. “Meet Sofie Baston. Sofie’s friend Mr. Bishop is sitting in, if that’s okay.”

Shaunti studies Trevor for a moment before nodding. She looks back to me, her eyes becoming more guarded.

“Sofie, you called to say you had information that we might find interesting given the claims Shaunti made last week.” Karen sits behind her desk, leaning back to fold her arms across her chest. “What kind of information exactly?”

Trevor reaches for my hand, even though he continues to study Karen and Shaunti. For a moment I can’t for the life of me remember why I would choose to do this—hurl my life into this typhoon. Then I think of Halima. They cut that woman’s clitoris off. She’ll live with the complications of that sloppy butchering for the rest of her life. She can’t ever go home under threat of death, and yet she travels the world doing exactly what she challenged us to do that day. Using her hurt to help. Fifteen years ago I decided not to speak out against Kyle. There is at least one woman seated across from me who paid the price of my silence, and there are probably more.

“Kyle Manchester raped me when I was eighteen years old.” I press my lips together before continuing. “On prom night. Couldn’t get more cliché, right?”

I just spat that out, but Karen and Shaunti both stare at me, eyes arrested and mouths slightly open.

“You’re saying that…that Kyle raped you, too?” Shaunti asks.

“Yes. I never came forward. I never planned to.” I cross my legs, tracing the stitching of my black skinny jeans. “But I’m prepared to speak out now.”

Karen Sims leans forward.

“Sofie, we want to take that bastard down badly.” She glances at Shaunti, tweaking one corner of her mouth before looking back to me. “We were pretty close, but his team dug up some things from Shaunti’s past that she couldn’t have come out.”

“I have a husband and a six-year-old,” Shaunti adds, her tone almost defensive. “One wild night in college and…”

She glances at Trevor, as if remembering that he’s present.

“I just…those things couldn’t come out. I had to pull back.”

“We tell you this, Sofie, so that you understand Kyle’s team will come after you with everything.” Karen glances at Trevor, still holding my hand. “And to be frank, you have more than one wild night for them to dig up, most of them well-documented.”

“Which should be an advantage in some ways,” I say. “Everyone knows all my dirt. There’s not much left to expose.”

“The thing is, Sofie,” Karen says, “The statute of limitations in your case, like in Shaunti’s, has expired. This is purely a trial of public opinion. I’ll be frank. As ridiculous as it sounds, being a woman who’s posed for
Playboy
and been as open as you have about your affairs, your sexuality, doesn’t make you a sympathetic figure in rape allegations.”

Hearing it put that way, especially in front of Trevor, deflates me. You mean to tell me I worked myself up to speak out, to finally tell my story, only to be told my voice isn’t good enough because I like sex? Because I’m not ashamed of my body? I’m about to speak up, when Trevor beats me to it.

“I’m glad you realize that sounds ridiculous, Ms. Sims,” Trevor says. “I find it ridiculous that any reasonably intelligent person would be unable to differentiate between an adult woman having and enjoying consensual sex and an eighteen-year-old girl subjected to a violent crime.”

“It’s okay, Bishop.” I squeeze his hand, wishing he weren’t hearing this. It’s embarrassing to be told everyone thinks you’re too slutty to believe you ever turned down sex, even from a rapist.

“No, it’s not.” He looks at me, his eyes dark and flinty. “Sofie came here to see if she could assist with your efforts in exposing Kyle Manchester for the criminal scum that he is. If you don’t want her involvement, I don’t have to tell you her team is more than capable of handling this without you.”

He leans back, resting one elbow on the seat’s arm.

“But you’d regret that, wouldn’t you, Ms. Sims?” A laugh laced with cynicism passes his lips. “The chance to attach yourself to such a high-profile figure in a case against a powerful man? A case that will garner national attention? You won’t pass up that chance, will you?”

Karen Sims’s cheeks go red. Her nostrils flare. Her mouth tightens.

“Now, you listen here, Mr. Bishop—”

“No, you listen here, Karen. May I call you Karen?” Trevor drops my hand and leans forward, resting a palm on the desk in front of us. “You’ve got about ten seconds to convince us that if Sofie comes forward she’ll have your unequivocal support, and that you will speak with confidence on her behalf. If not, then I’ll advise Sofie to walk right now. Because I can guarantee you there’re a thousand others in New York just like you, but there’s only one Sofie. One person with the kind of international instant recognition, with a profile higher than even Kyle’s, who can actually fight him and win.”

I’m blinking back tears. Why? Because he just stood up for me when no one usually does? Because there’s no doubt he believes me, when my parents don’t? When my parents won’t stand up for me or with me? Because it’s apparent he actually cares about me?

“I was merely advising Sofie that they’ll come after her hard,” Karen says. “And that there will be people who take his side. He’s a very popular man right now. He’s an Independent, but garners a lot of conservative support based on his fiscal positions. If he can rally conservative support against Sofie, it could get really ugly.”

“I understand that,” I say.

“I want to work with you, Sofie.” Karen turns her words and eyes deliberately in Trevor’s direction. “For the right reasons, but you need to know there’s a lot to lose. Do your parents know about this? Your father has been very publicly aligned with Kyle Manchester lately.”

“Yeah, they know.” I lick my lips, hating that I have to say the next words, but it has to be said. “We can’t count on them for support.”

“Your parents don’t believe you?” Surprise stretches Shaunti’s eyes and lifts her brows.

“I think they believe me. They just don’t care.”

The silence that follows my statement is telling. I know what Karen and Shaunti are thinking. If I can’t count on my own parents to side with me against Kyle Manchester, how can I expect anyone else to?

“Okay, well then.” Karen clears her throat. “I’m not asking this in a judgmental way, but just so that we can be prepared for anything.”

“All right. Ask away.”

“I did a little searching before you came.” Karen steadies her eyes on my face. “Just some recon to prepare for your visit.”

“I’m sure that was a fascinating Google search,” I mutter.

“Besides the
Playboy
spread, a very public affair with a prominent married man.” Karen clears her throat again, shooting a glance at Trevor that makes me scared to hear what dirt she’s about to bring out from under the carpet. “A, ahem, threesome or two bragged about in the tabloids.”

Trevor looks at me sharply, brows in the air, asking the silent question. I just shrug one shoulder.

“I was young and drunk.”

“Which brings me to my next question, Sofie,” Karen says. “Any drug use?”

“I’m a model, Karen,” I reply. “If you’re asking if someone somewhere may have a picture of me snorting a line of coke, that could happen. I’m not an addict, by any means. It would have been rare, but at a party or after a shoot, things happen. I’m not the one on trial here.”

“And neither is Kyle, at least not criminally,” Karen says. “We have to be clear about what a win is for us. Neither you nor Shaunti have a criminal case anymore, but with her allegations still in people’s minds, and then someone as high profile as you adding yours, it will at least bring pressure for him to drop out of the Senate race. And, hopefully, encourage some girl who
does
still have a criminal case against him to come forward.”

“That’s exactly what we’ve been thinking,” I say.

“In the meantime, Sofie,” Karen says, sympathy in her eyes and on her face. “They’ll make life hell for you.”

“It can’t be worse than the night he raped me.” My voice shakes only the tiniest bit, but from Trevor’s eyes fixed on my face, I think he hears it. “For days afterward I had bruises and bite marks from his attack. I didn’t take pictures, but I’ve never forgotten that.”

“Did he bite your, um…” Shaunti glances self-consciously at Trevor. “Your breasts?”

“Yes.” I look at my wrist, half surprised not to see red whelp marks ringing them. “And he belted my wrists.”

“Mine, too,” Shaunti whispers. “Did he ejaculate on your stomach at the end? I couldn’t understand why he…he just…Did he do that to you, too?”

I can only offer a jerky nod, the memory of that humiliation sealing my lips together. Me tied to the hotel bed with his belt knotted around my wrists, his eyes locked on mine while he spent himself on my belly and rubbed it into my skin. Hours after I showered until my skin turned raw, I could still feel that wet stickiness violating me.

“If he did those things to both of us, maybe it’s a pattern.” Shaunti brushes a tear from her cheek. “And there’s another girl who will hear your story and come forward, too.”