A Sip of You(21)

The silence between us lasted so long I was half afraid he hadn’t heard. But he had heard perfectly. I felt his shoulders stiffen, and he drew out of my embrace. “It’s a little more complicated this time. And I’d rather keep you out of it. You don’t need to know.”

I recoiled as though slapped. “What? What do you mean I don’t need to know? I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to know, Catherine,” he said in that deep, dominant tone that clearly indicated his mind was made up and he wasn’t to be questioned. “Just trust me. It’s being taken care of and it will all be over soon enough. Don’t worry about it.”

He pushed me gently off his lap. Left with no other choice, I stood beside him. He rose as well and stretched. He really wasn’t going to say any more, and I stared in stunned disbelief, reeling from the emotional whiplash.

William had just opened up to me more than he ever had before and for those few moments, I felt so emotionally connected to him, so in love with him. And now, he was shutting me out. Just like that. Just because he wanted to. What the fuck?

I wanted to call him on it. Bad. I wanted to have a knockdown, drag-out fight, right here, right now, and scream that he couldn’t just ice me out because he felt like it. But I knew that wouldn’t get me what I wanted. I couldn’t make him open his heart to me no matter how loudly I demanded it. Still, a part of me rebelled against giving him a pass. He was acting as though nothing had changed between us and that everything was perfectly normal. It was frustrating and maddening and confusing as hell.

I was still trying to process what had just happened when William put his arm around me and pulled me close. I was torn between punching him and burying my head against his chest and sobbing.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” His breath was soft and warm against my neck and a delicious shiver of yearning raced through my body. No matter how angry he made me, his touch still had the effect of bringing every part of me immediately into awareness. His lips grazed my ear teasingly. “I want to share Casa di Rosabela with you. Why don’t we have dessert upstairs? I have a special treat in mind.”

Heat flared in me at his words, and I sighed in anticipation of what was to come. A pass it was. There’d be no more talk about William’s secrets tonight.





Five




Someone had already prepared the master suite, as the lights were dimmed, romantic jazz played softly in the background, and a dozen or so candles flickered throughout. I hadn’t noticed the terrace earlier, but now the doors were open, and the soft fragrant breeze gave me the chills. A small pitcher of honey and a plate of sopapillas sprinkled with powdered sugar and cinnamon sat beside a bottle of champagne and two flutes on a side table.

William came up behind me, his hands trailing from my waist to my shoulders. “You’re tense,” he said. “How about I give you a massage?”

If I was tense, it was his fault, but I refrained from mentioning that. “I should be the one massaging you,” I said, turning to him. “I know you have a lot on your mind.”

“You’re the only thing on my mind right now. Let me take care of you, Catherine. I like taking care of you.” His hands kneaded my shoulders.

How could I argue? I was tense and tired, and a massage sounded wonderful. “Alright,” I agreed. I felt his hand slide down the zipper of my dress and I stepped out of it and stood facing him in just my kitten heels and my pretty pink lace and silk bra and thong, which I had found in my closet of couture delights.

William’s eyes went immediately dark with desire, that molten grey color I loved. I wanted to see more of that look, so I slowly brought my hand to the front clasp of my bra and unsnapped it. I’d done a sexy fantasy striptease for him last night at the hotel and he’d just about come undone. I wanted that reaction again. I let my bra tumble to the floor, feeling my nipples harden and pucker as they were freed. William watched me as I touched myself.

“I love your breasts, Catherine,” he said, voice husky. I could see the outline of his thick erection straining against his jeans.

“Show me,” I said. His look said he was humoring me and my demands. He stepped closer, putting his hands on my shoulders and sliding them tantalizingly down my flesh. He cupped my breasts, his thumbs rubbing across my sensitive nipples, making them harden until it was almost painful not to be touched. His thumbs plucked and teased until I was breathless, and then he bent and replaced his fingers with his hot, wet mouth. He stroked my swollen point with his tongue and then took it in his mouth, drew it out, and sucked. Wantonly, I pushed myself against him as I ran my hand down his tight abdomen and across his hardness. I felt him twitch and pulse in response. Then his lips released and he pulled his head up and moved back, leaving me incredibly turned on.