Filthy Beautiful Lies(18)

 

Making a split second decision, I saunter over to him, swaying to the beat of the still pumping music and grab his tie, tugging him closer. His body brushes against mine and the awareness of his broad muscular frame and captivating scent send endorphins skittering through my blood steam. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the music, or it could just be my lack of control in my new environment, but whatever the reason, I’m feeling bold. Alive for the first time in a long time. I drag a fingertip down the length of his tie, appreciating the feel of fine silk against my skin. Colton eyes my movements, but remains completely still as his breathing grows ragged.

 

Tired of being ignored, I grip his tie and work my hips back and forth in front of his lap, rolling my pelvis to the beat of the music, careful not to brush up against him, I’m just trying to show him there’s more to me than the kept little girl he treats me as.

 

His amused grin falls away and his face takes on a more serious expression. His eyes drop from mine and slide lower, traveling slowly down my body. His look is ravenous and my pulse riots in my neck. The way his eyes are glued to my body is too much. The healthy dose of courage, courtesy of the half bottle of wine I’d consumed, all but evaporates, and my dancing comes to a halt.

 

His hand circles my waist, his thumb grazing back and forth across my hip bone. "I never took you for a Rhianna fan," he murmurs.

 

I merely nod and his hand falls away. I immediately notice its absence. Grabbing the remote, I tap the screen several times to bring the volume down to a more reasonable level.

 

"Naughty Girl, huh?" Colton asks, plucking the wine bottle from the counter. "Are you drunk, Sophie?" He sends me a questioning look and I lift one eyebrow. Why do I feel like a rebellious teenager who’s broken into daddy’s liquor cabinet?

 

He surprises me by bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a long swig. I watch the thick column of his throat as he swallows and little goosebumps break out across my belly. When he’s done, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "I’ve had a hell of a day." He grabs another bottle of wine and two fresh glasses. "Come on."

 

Dinner is all but forgotten – I have wine and Colton to keep me company and my boredom is temporarily at bay. Hallelujah!

 

I follow him through the house, into his darkened office and out onto the deck. As soon as he slides open the glass doors, the gentle whooshing sound of the ocean welcomes us. It instantly soothes me.

 

He strips off his suit jacket and removes the tie over his head, hanging both on the railing to the deck where they lightly flutter in the breeze. Colton sinks down into one of the lounge chairs and begins uncorking the bottle. I slide into the seat next to him and accept the glass of cool, crisp wine he passes me.

 

It’s not as sweet as the bottle I’d opened, but subtle buttery flavors greet my palate. Mmm. I let out a tiny moan and Colton’s eyes race over to mine.

 

"Care to tell me what tonight was all about?" he asks.

 

"What?" I play dumb.

 

"The club music – the wine, the dancing…" He lifts one dark eyebrow, his playful smirk is back.

 

"What was wrong with my dancing?"

 

Fighting off a smile, he clears his throat. "There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with it, sweetness. You just surprise me, is all."

 

"It’s boring here all day. I’m thinking about getting a job," I say, looking over at him to check his reaction.

 

"I’ve provided everything you could need. Why would you want to work?" He seems surprised.

 

After paying for my sister’s care, I still have several hundred thousand dollars in the bank. And I’m living expense-free. I should enjoy it, right? Only I can’t. That’s not me. I’ve never taken a hand-out in my life. "It’s not about the money, I just need something to do – I can’t lounge around all day with the only thing to do is go shopping with Marta using your credit cards. I want something for me. A purpose." Just saying it out loud renews my decision.

 

He takes another thoughtful sip of his wine, his full lips resting on the edge of the glass more distracting than it should be. "If that’s what you want. What kind of job?" he asks.

 

"I don’t know. Maybe at a coffee shop, or restocking books at the library. It doesn’t matter. Just something that gets me out of the house."

 

"You’re welcome to get a job, as long as you’re home in the evenings when I am."

 

I nod. That sounds good to me too. I’ve come to enjoy his company at night. My boredom is isolated to the daytime hours. I didn’t enjoy sitting alone in this too big house with too many thoughts running rampant through my head. It isn’t healthy. "Thank you."

 

"What did you do today?" he asks, like he usually does.

 

"I read, went for a swim." I shrug and focus on my wine. I don’t want to tell him that in the hours before he gets home, I shower and get myself ready, taking extra time to blow dry my hair and put on the dark colored lingerie that Marta insisted he’d like. It’s like even my bras and panties are mocking me, whispering against my skin that he’s not interested.

 

"Hey, what’s wrong?" He lifts my chin to meet his concerned gaze.

 

"Nothing." I straighten my shoulders, shaking the feelings away. There’s no reason to feel rejected. If anything, I should be relieved. But if the situation were different – if I wasn’t here under these pretenses, I’d still no doubt feel rejected by his lack of interest. He’s a beautiful, charming, wealthy man. I guess it was dumb to believe that a man like him would be interested in someone like me.

 

His eyes hesitantly leave mine and though I can sense he wants to press the issue further, he closes his mouth and refills my wine glass.

 

"What happened at work today?" I recall him saying he’d had a rough day.

 

His eyes harden and he looks out at the dark blue water, growing quiet. It occurs to me that I don’t really know what he does. He’s very private about his business. "Nothing with work, it was actually something…personal that popped up unexpectedly. I need to go to New York and take care of it."

 

"New York? When?" Of course what I really want to know is what personal matter he could have in New York, since I know virtually nothing of his past.

 

He shrugs. "Soon. Maybe this weekend." His tone tells me its not something he wants to discuss, though I don’t like the thought of him leaving.

 

I want to get back the flirty, playful attitude that seems to have faded with my complaints about boredom and whatever personal drama had Colton frowning out at the ocean.

 

"I have an idea," I announce, hopping up from my chair. "Stay here."

 

He nods, and watches me retreat through the glass door.

 

I jog upstairs and search through my toiletries until I find it.

 

I’m slightly winded when I make it back outside and Colton’s eyes drop to see what I’ve gone to retrieve. I hold up the bottle of oil. "I thought you could use a little relaxation." I wave the massage oil temptingly in front of him and smile.

 

He eyes me curiously like he’s trying to figure out my motives. It never occurred to me that he’d assume I was doing this out of obligation. It was a simple gesture – something nice you’d do for a friend, or a boyfriend when he’d had a trying day.

 

"Strip," I order, pointing to his dress shirt. I won’t let him turn this into something weird.

 

He complies, watching me while he unbuttons and shrugs out of the shirt. Even though I should be used to seeing him in various states of undress by now, but each time, his masculine beauty hits me full force. His toned chest and chiseled abs look positively lickable in the glowing moonlight. Focus, Sophie. Things aren’t like that between you two. I take a deep breath and motion for him to turn over and lay on his stomach. After dropping the shirt to the deck, he rolls on his lounger, lying flat for me.

 

Without thinking, I straddle him, sitting right on his butt and draping one leg on either side of his hips. "Am I too heavy?" I ask.

 

"You’re fine," he says. He folds his arms under his chin, making his shoulder muscles bulge.

 

Dripping some of the fragrant lavender scented oil into my hand, I rub my palms together to warm it before spreading it over his back. His frame is so broad that my small hands seem to barely make a dent in the expanse of canvas I want to cover. At first I think he’s incredibly tense and I tell him to relax.

 

"I am," he mumbles.

 

And then I realize he’s just rock hard with muscle. Geez. I splay my hands across his upper back, rubbing steadily. I’m unaccustomed to touching a man so intimately. His skin is smooth and lightly tanned and I love the feel of him under my hands.

 

I rub my hands up his neck and into his hair, massaging his scalp and he groans. I’m all too aware of how I’m sitting perched on top of him. My center is resting against his firm backside and the seam of my shorts pressing against my cleft. I squirm the tiniest bit, trying to adjust the way I’m sitting, but it only puts additional friction between my thighs. My clit begins to throb in time with my accelerating heartbeat. Shit. I’m horny. I blame it on too much wine, too much warm male perfection underneath me.