Читать книгу Desire Collection: November Books 1 - 4 - Charlene Sands - Страница 18

Eight

Normally, Eric enjoyed everything about traveling to a site at the beginning of a new project. Of course he enjoyed making more money. Who didn’t? But he actually loved buying a piece of property, whether it was vacant or the buildings were dilapidated or whatever, and seeing the possibilities. He loved choosing the best option from those possibilities and making it a reality. He was good at it, too. Every development was more successful than the last. Sometimes it seemed like there wasn’t anything Eric couldn’t turn to gold.

He glanced at the woman sitting across from him. She looked amazing today—but his awareness of her went deeper than just how her backside had looked in those white pants when she’d gotten into the car.

So many possibilities.

It didn’t make any sense, how glad he was to see her. He’d gone decades without Sofia in his life and suddenly, he was waking up early, thinking of ways he could make her laugh—or make her eyes deepen with desire, make her tongue flick over her lips in anticipation...

“Should I send that picture to you or your mother?” Sofia asked.

He jerked his gaze away from her lips. “Me.” Because he wanted to hold on to that memory of Sofia’s children in his arms, of Eddy’s easy laughter, of Addy’s slow but sweet smile.

He hadn’t lied—those kids were even cuter in person. Eddy was outgoing and Addy was reserved, but they were two sides of the same coin. They weren’t identical, in either their appearance or temperament, but they did little things together that tugged at his heartstrings, like tilting their heads the same way and smiling the same smile at the same time. They matched each other perfectly in every way.

He touched his jacket, right over where he’d tucked their drawings in his inside pocket. When he thought of those babies, all he saw was possibilities.

His reaction didn’t make any sense, but he wanted to be there for them.

“There,” Sofia said, seconds before his phone chimed. “You like strawberry best, right? I suppose it’s not a great idea to load up on junk food before we get on the plane, though...” She fished out a bright red Jarritos soda from the overflowing bag Mrs. Cortés had packed.

“At least we won’t starve to death anytime soon,” he joked, twisting the cap off the soda. “I haven’t had one of these in years.” He took a long drink. And then immediately started coughing as the sugar hit his tongue like a tidal wave. “Was it always this sweet?” he choked out, his eyes watering.

Sofia laughed. He could see a little of the tension fading from around her eyes. “Yes, it was. You really haven’t had one since we were kids?”

He shook his head and took a much smaller sip of the soda. All he could taste was sugar. It wasn’t so much strawberry flavored, but damn if it didn’t taste like his childhood and all the fun he used to have with Sofia. “I know you may find this hard to believe, but I don’t exactly wander the aisles of grocery stores. I have a personal chef and I dine out a lot.”

Her lips twisted into something that might’ve been a smile. Yes, he knew she didn’t have personal chefs, but he didn’t want to do a side-by-side comparison of their lifestyles.

“That’s true, I suppose,” she said.

“Hey, none of that.” He held out his soda for her to taste. Mrs. Cortés had packed several bottles but he was possessed with the sudden urge to share with Sofia. They always had shared, back when they’d been kids, hiding from his mom’s nutritionally conscious eyes. “We’re going to have a good time this weekend and that’s final. I don’t know if I told you this yet, but you look very nice today.”

She hesitated and then took the bottle from him. “Thank you. I can’t take any credit for this outfit—or anything else. It’s all Clarice.”

“She may have picked it out,” he said, his gaze drawn to the smooth expanse of her creamy skin revealed by the low-cut blouse, “but you’re making it look good.”

Sofia’s cheeks shot bright pink and for a second, he thought she was going to scold him. Instead, she lifted the bottle and placed it against her lips.

Suddenly, Eric couldn’t do anything but watch her throat move as she swallowed. When she handed the bottle back to him, her tongue traced the path around her lips, capturing every drop of sweetness.

He went hard in a heartbeat and it only got worse when she looked up at him through her lashes. So many possibilities. How would she look, her hair undone and her lips swollen from kisses? Would she taste sweet or would she taste more complex, like a fine wine?

He shook back to himself. This was Sofia, for crying out loud. He had to stop thinking about kissing her at random times. About kissing her at all. Or about what she’d look like in a cocktail dress. Or even out of a cocktail dress.

Unfortunately, his thoughts went right back to her children. He dug out his phone and opened the picture and froze. Eddy was clapping, Addy was smiling and as for him?

He looked happy. Happier than he could ever remember looking.

This was bad. No, that wasn’t true. Bad was wanting to strip her down to nothing and spending a long evening in a private hotel suite showing her how much better he’d gotten at kissing since he’d been a kid. He wanted to do bad, bad things to her. Repeatedly. Over the course of a long weekend.

Her babies weren’t bad, because he now knew these twins and might very well keep on knowing them. He could visit them again or have Sofia bring them out on the boat. Hell, he could invite them to his parents’ house because his mother would go crazy for these babies. He didn’t have to cling to this one photo as if that was all he was going to get.

But it was worse, too—because how was he supposed to spend time with those babies and not want more? He could already see it all—the way they’d scream in delight as the boat roared across the lake. How much fun they’d have in the pool, splashing everywhere.

How was he supposed to spend time with Sofia and not think of stripping her down and covering her body with his every other second? How was he supposed to hold himself back from cupping her cheek in his palm, feeling the soft warmth of her skin against his?

He shifted in his seat. What was his problem? He was not thinking about seducing Sofia, damn it. And he couldn’t be anything more to her children than an old family friend, either. As much as he cared for Sofia and her children, it wasn’t like he could just snap his fingers and have a ready-made family come running to his side.

It was one thing to give Sofia a good salary to support her children—but another thing to think he could overcome the loss of her husband and the babies’ father. All the money and power in the world couldn’t replace David Bingham.

A happy ending for Sofia was one more thing he couldn’t buy.

But if he could, he would. Because he did care for Sofia and he could very easily care for her children.

So many possibilities.

She opened a bag of Takis chips and held it out to him. “Thank you for being nice to the kids.”

He snorted and took a chip. “You make it sound like I was forcing myself to endure their company and that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m only sorry we couldn’t hang out more. And,” he went on, cutting her off before she could argue with him, “I was serious about coming out on the boat. I’ll get life preservers for them. Or maybe those little wet suits with the built-in floaties? Marcus had one for his son.”

That set off another round of thoughts. Marcus had married his executive assistant—Liberty Reese, who Eric had tried to poach for his own office.

How had that worked out for the Warrens? They still ran Warren Capital together. They’d adopted a little baby and somehow made a family out of almost thin air.

He shook his head. Those were questions best left for later. “While it’s a little cooler out toward the middle of the lake, the water’s a lot cleaner,” he went on. “The back of my boat opens out almost level with the water, so there wouldn’t be a big jump for them. I think they’d love it.” Then he popped the chip into his mouth.

And coughed again as his tongue caught on fire. “Were these always this spicy?” he spluttered, grabbing the soda and downing the rest of it in seconds. His eyes began to water as sweat popped out on his forehead.

Sofia laughed at him. “No, actually,” she said, studying the bag. “These are a newer flavor. Too hot?”

“I wasn’t prepared, that’s all.” But even as he said it, he swore he could see smoke curling out of his mouth. “I might never be prepared. Let’s not take these out on the boat. I’d never forgive myself if one of the kids ate one by accident.”

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him—although it was hard to look severe when eating corn chips. She didn’t even seem to break a sweat eating those hellfire chips. “You’re really serious? About the boat?”

“Sofia, when have I ever not been serious?”

She fought against a smile, he could tell. Her mouth twisted before she lost the battle and grinned at him. “Gosh,” she said, taking a pastry from the bag. “I can’t think of a time where you were never not serious.”

He liked that smile on her. He didn’t want to see worry crowding the corners of her eyes, drawing her full lips into a tight line. “Are you going to be okay this weekend?”

She looked out the window. “I think so. Yes. This is a whole different world for me, Eric. Private jets and expensive clothes and chauffeured cars...”

“Don’t forget the boat.”

She rolled her eyes, but she smiled again. “Who could forget the boat? I know we’re going to be working. But I’m determined to have fun. I haven’t had time away since...” She swallowed. “Since before,” she finished decisively.

Although it probably wasn’t a smart thing to do, Eric reached over and laced his fingers with hers. For a long moment, her hand was stiff in his and then, just when he’d decided this was another bad idea, her grip tightened around his. That spark flowed between them, but it was okay. Not a seduction. Here, in the car, they could hold hands and it would be all right.

“Sofia,” he said softly, setting the bag of food on the floor and scooting over to her. “I’m so sorry.”

Again, it was another long moment before she relaxed into him, her head against his shoulder. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling of her weight on his body. “It’s...it’s getting better. The job helps.”

“Good.” That was the most important thing, right? That he was giving her a way forward. That was the way he could help her best.

Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath and then, looking up at him, she said, “You help, Eric.”

Up close, her eyes were a rich brown, shimmering and sweet, like the finest of brandies. He could get drunk on her, he realized.

He didn’t know if she was leaning up to him or he was reaching down to her. Or both. He was only dimly aware of cupping her cheek with his hand and stroking his thumb over it. “I just want to make everything better for you,” he murmured, staring in fascination as her eyes darkened. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper against his lips. “Friends.”

Then she was kissing him and he was kissing her and it was intoxicating. She tasted sweet and spicy and hot. His temperature began to climb and it had nothing to do with artificial flavorings.

This wasn’t like their first kiss. Not even close. Because this wasn’t a tentative touching of lips with their eyes squeezed shut, both holding their breath.

This kiss was everything. He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue and Sofia sighed into his mouth, opening for him. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, searching for her taste underneath.

Sofia kissed him with a wild sort of abandon, like a woman starving for air who’d just surfaced above the waves. Ah, he thought, there she was. She tasted complex and sweet, just like the woman herself.

He shifted so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her in closer before he went back to kissing her. His blood hummed in his veins as the weight of her breasts pressed against his side. Shifting, he cupped one in his hand, the weight of her heavy and warm in his palm. Sofia moaned against his mouth as he stroked her. When her nipple went tight under his touch, he had to bite back his own groan. She was so responsive. God, she’d be amazing when she let go.

He wanted her to let go now. Still teasing her nipple, he sank his free hand into her hair, tilting her head so he could let his mouth drift down her neck until he found her pulse. It wasn’t weak or irregular. Instead, her heart was beating hard and fast as a soft moan broke free of her lips. “Eric.”

This was right, he realized. Sofia was right where she belonged, in his arms. He was hard for her and wanted nothing more than to sink into her softness and make her cry out with satisfaction.

The car lurched sharply around a corner, throwing them both off balance. He clutched her by the shoulders until they were both steady.

Or steadier, anyway. Her eyes were glazed with desire and he knew he wasn’t in any better shape. All he could do was look down at her and think how much he wanted to do that again.

He didn’t take the chance because just as he leaned forward, Sofia sat back. Her gaze cleared and that delicious desire was replaced with tight lines of worry. “Oh. Oh. That was...”

She touched her lips with the tips of her fingers and Eric had to resist the urge to replace her fingers with his lips. But he didn’t get the chance because she retreated across from him. He had to drop his arm from around her shoulder, but he wasn’t going to relinquish his hold on her that easily. He wrapped his fingers around hers again.

“A mistake,” she finished weakly.

He managed not to scowl. “It didn’t feel like a mistake to me.” Why had he thought this would be easy? Because it wasn’t going to be. “Is this the part where you tell me we can’t do this?”

“We can’t.” But she didn’t pull her hand away from his. “Eric, we really can’t.”

“Why not? I like you. More than like, actually,” he admitted. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you walked back into my office. Into my life.”

“I can’t fall again,” she said, her voice breaking. She turned to look at him, her eyes bright with tears. “I have to...” She swallowed and looked away again. “I have a job to do. I don’t want to risk that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Your job has nothing to do with any of this.”

That got him a sharp look. Funny how it made him want to smile. “Don’t be intentionally dense, Eric. I need the job. I need to take care of my family. I need to keep moving forward. You’re paying me too much money—”

“Not that again,” he huffed.

“And I can’t risk that. Not for something as selfish as...” She swallowed again. “As short-term as sex.”

Eric gaped at her in confusion. “Sofia. Look at me.”

She didn’t. She could be stubborn, his Sofia. “This is exactly like the salary argument, Eric. You can afford to do whatever you want. But I can’t. I don’t have hundreds of thousands—millions—of dollars to fall back on when this doesn’t work.”

He thought about that for a moment. Really, her argument was sound. She worked for him and he had a hard-and-fast rule about relationships with his staff—he didn’t have them, period.

But Sofia wasn’t just his office manager. She was his friend. Their relationship had started long before she’d begun to work for him—and he was beginning to realize he wanted it to last long afterward. “When was the last time you had sex?”

“Really?” she snapped, jerking her hand from his. “You’re going to ask me that?”

“After that kiss? You’re damn right I’m going to ask that. When was the last time you put your needs first?” Because he was willing to bet money that Sofia was low on her own to-do list.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her lips trembling. “Don’t.”

He could read the truth on her face. She hadn’t been with anyone since her husband had died. A year and a half was a long time to go without a little loving.

He wanted to crush her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay—but hell. She’d been widowed and he’d been left at the altar and he couldn’t promise her that everything would work out just so.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try, though. He wasn’t promising her forever, after all. Just the weekend. “I’m trying to understand, babe. You need to take care of your family. I get that. But who takes care of you?” He knew her mother worried about her, too. But being mothered wasn’t the same thing as putting herself first.

She swallowed hard. “You’re not going to fight fair, are you?”

“Of course not.” She almost smiled at that—but not quite. “This weekend—let me take care of you. Which,” he added, stroking his thumb along the side of her hand, “I’m already doing. I can’t wait to see what dresses you decided on.”

“Not the same,” she muttered, yet he couldn’t help but notice that she was still holding his hand, still submitting to his touch.

“Let’s have fun this weekend,” he went on. “Just two old friends spending time together. No strings.” He leaned over and nuzzled her hair with his nose. God, she smelled so good. He wanted to devour her. “Let me put you first, Sofia. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

She didn’t answer for the longest time. “I don’t know if I can do that. Not like you can.”

That hurt more than he wanted it to. “Like me?”

“I can’t be...casual.” But she rested her head on his shoulder and it only made sense for him to tuck his arm around her again. “I mean... I don’t know what I mean.”

Eric let that thought roll around in his head. He assumed she knew about his ex-fiancée. Had she heard about the aftermath of the broken wedding? He’d gone through several high-profile, short-lived romances afterward before he’d burned himself out on meaningless sex. He hadn’t exactly loved Prudence, but he’d at least cared for her, and sex without that caring wasn’t the same. A physical release, yeah. But it hadn’t been enough. He’d needed more.

Sofia in his arms felt like more.

His body ached for hers but for more than just a release—for both of them. He wanted to make her smile and laugh and...

He just wanted to make things right again. For her and maybe for him. For them both.

He kissed her head and did the right thing. “It’s okay. We don’t have to fool around.” His body strained in protest but he ignored it. He wanted Sofia almost past the point of reason—but friends didn’t pressure friends into sex.

She snorted in what he hoped was amusement.

“But,” he went on, “if you change your mind, you let me know. Because I care about you, Sofia. I won’t hurt you.”

She was silent, but she let him hold her all the same. “Friends, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. Friends were great. Friends with benefits were even better. But he managed to keep his mouth shut. “Always friends.”

She sighed and leaned into him even more. “Thank you,” she whispered.

And although it wasn’t sex, there was something to just holding her that made Eric close his eyes and savor the moment.

He stroked Sofia’s hair. She sighed again and even that small noise made him feel good. Great, even.

He needed this. He needed her and even if this was as far as it got, it was enough. For now.

The car bumped into a pothole and Sofia’s cheek crinkled against the drawings her children had made for him. It was entirely possible, he realized, that he needed those babies, too. Their laughter, their hugs. Their joy. He needed that innocence in his life again. He was tired of being a cynic, holding himself apart from people because they’d disappoint him every single time.

He and Sofia stayed like that and Eric let himself enjoy the feel of her body pressed against his. Even this almost platonic touch felt right. She belonged in his arms.

How could he convince her of that?