Читать книгу Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires - Rebecca Winters - Страница 96

WASN’T SHE SUPPOSED to be keeping her distance? At the very least she should be drawing boundaries, given he was the guy who could get her in a world of trouble right now.

Then why did you come here? You knew where this would go. He won’t leave your head until you do something about it.

Her fingers trembled as they wrapped around the sturdy leather of his belt, grazing the hard ridge pressing against his fly. His hips jerked as she released the buckle.

“Christ, Wren.” He uttered her name so low she almost didn’t hear it. But he only took a second before he grabbed her hips and pinned her against the kitchen counter. “I thought I was going to be the one to make a move.”

“So move,” she said, taunting him softly.

A gasp escaped her lips as he nudged his leg between hers, his thigh applying just the right amount of pressure to the needy ache there.

“Yes.” The word slipped from her lips and Wren felt her last remaining ounce of restraint disappear into the ether.

What did Debbie say—you’ve got to use it before you lose it?

Maybe it was stupid to get entangled with Rhys. No, it was definitely stupid. And not only that, it was irresponsible and selfish. She was keeping secrets from this man who’d been nothing but kind to her. Even after she’d spilled out all the pain of what had happened to her back home.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But right now her brain wasn’t the one in the driver’s seat. So there would be no obeying the speed limit, no following the rules. Her body had taken over, and it wanted to make up for lost time.

“How do you feel about dessert?” she asked.

Hard granite dug into her lower back as his hips held her fast. “What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s skip whatever you had planned and go straight to bed.”

“Health conscious. I like it.” His hot breath whispered across her skin as his full lips grazed her cheek.

“Yes, exactly what I was going for.” She rolled her eyes, her laugh breaking off into a moan as he nipped at her earlobe. “Do you have to be such an adult about everything?”

“I’m thinking some very adult things right now.”

Her hands drifted up his chest, tracing each ridge of muscle one by one. “Oh yeah?”

“Super adult. It would make my spreadsheet look like child’s play.”

Laughter bubbled up in Wren’s chest as she placed a finger over his lips. “Okay, enough dirty talk.”

Mercifully, he brushed her hand aside and finally captured her mouth. The soft glide of his tongue against hers left her weak at the knees. He tasted of wine and heaven. Boy, oh boy, could he kiss.

This was A-grade, five-gold-stars, Nobel Prize levels of kissing.

His hands were at her waist, then her rib cage, then her breasts. Kneading. Squeezing. Flicking.

“Oh!” Her head jerked back as he pinched her nipple through the thin layer of her tank. It felt as though a volt of electricity had shot straight through her.

“Is that a good ‘oh’?” He chuckled against the side of her neck as he nipped at the sensitive skin there. Each bite was soothed with a swipe of his tongue in a maddening pattern. Nip. Swipe. Nip. Swipe.

“That’s a ‘don’t stop if you know what’s good for you’ oh,” she said, lolling her head back as his fingers hooked under the strap of her tank and pulled it down, exposing her breast to his hands.

His palm circled her, only stopping to allow his thumb to take over. And then his mouth… Oh, dear God. His mouth. He drew her nipple between his teeth, holding it gently there while he flicked his tongue against her, drawing out every soul-deep pleasure sound she could possible make.

Shamelessly, she rubbed against him. It had been so long since she’d felt this good, strung tighter than a wire and ready to snap. His other hand fisted in her skirt, trying to get at her through all the layers of fabric.

“Dammit,” he growled against her breast. “This skirt is ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous.”

“It is.” He stood back and watched, his dark eyes almost totally black as they drank her in. “No, it’s criminal. Hiding those legs away should be illegal.”

Laughing, she made a show of swinging her hips like an exotic dancer. “Well, I do not want to get arrested.”

“Ditch the skirt.”

A sharp sound pierced the air as she drew the zipper down, and in an instant the fabric puddled at her feet. The heel of his palm found her center, grinding a series of slow, intense circles against her sex. Her clit ached, desperate for friction and release.

“Yes,” she gasped, running her hands around the back of his head as he suckled her breast. His hair was so short there was nothing for her to grab on to, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

His mouth came back up to hers as his hand shifted, a finger breaching the edge of her panties to softly stroke the seam of her sex. He’d be able to feel just how wet she was, how insanely aroused and excited. But she didn’t care—couldn’t care. Not while he was pushing her so close to an orgasm she knew would shatter her completely.

“Rhys…uh!” The words dissolved on her tongue as he kissed her, the tip of his finger pressing against her entrance.

“Are you ready?” His words were rough, sharp. Like gravel. “Are you ready to feel my fingers inside you?”

“Please, please.” She couldn’t string any more words together, so she looped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his ear. “Yes.”

The second he slid a finger inside her she thought she’d break. Her internal muscles clenched around him immediately, trying to draw him all the way in. But he held on to his control, sliding in and out slowly. Easing her into it. Stretching her.

She ground her hips against his hand and moaned, cursing under her breath. Then he shifted, curling his finger at just the right angle, rubbing the little bundle of nerves deep inside her and that was it. Game over.

“Oh. My. God.” Her body shook and she tumbled, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her. Filling her. Drowning her.

He held her there until it subsided. Until her heart slowed and her breath came in longer beats. Until she was able to stand on her own. Only then did he withdraw his hand and kiss her trembling lips.

“See. So much better than spreadsheets,” she said with a shaky laugh.

“Couldn’t agree more.” A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest and he bundled her up in his arms, the hard length of his arousal pressing into her belly.

Almost immediately her hunger returned. At full force.

Her fingertips grazed him, feeling the strength of him through the cotton of his boxer briefs. She wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot. Finding the slit in his underwear, she snaked her hand in and wrapped her fingers around him. He was hot against her palm, thick and heavy. Very thick.

She swallowed. She hadn’t been with many men during her somewhat lackluster sex life. And none of them had felt like Rhys. The sheer virility of him thrilled her. Smoothing her hand up and down, she squeezed tentatively and was rewarded with a low, ragged groan.

Then she remembered. Condoms.

They hadn’t exactly been high up on her shopping list when she’d fled to New York, so she hoped he would be better prepared. She didn’t want to stop now; she didn’t know if she had the strength to walk away without experiencing that long, hard length inside her.

“Shall we move this party to the bedroom?” he said as his lips brushed the shell of her ear.

“I’m hoping you’re prepared.”

“If you’re talking about protection, of course. I didn’t want to be presumptuous but…” He grinned.

“You are a Boy Scout. I knew it.”

He grabbed her hand and led her toward his bedroom. “Come on. If I don’t have you now I’m going to burst.”

“Is that a fact?”

She couldn’t deny how good his attraction made her feel. It smoothed over her, filling in the cracks and dents and chips in her confidence. It restored her. Made her believe that she was a sexy, young woman who could start over. Start fresh.

“One hundred percent.” He drew her to him by the waist, his large hands skating around to her lower back and pressing her against him.

“Not a hundred and ten?” she teased.

“There is no more than a hundred percent.”

Her calves hit the edge of his bed as he backed her up. Drawing his eyes away only for a moment, he yanked open the top drawer of his bedside table and rummaged around until he produced a foil packet. Then he tossed it onto the bed and returned to her.

“Now we’re prepared,” she said, her palms running up and down her thighs. Unsure where to start.

“More.” The word came out so strangled, so forced that it fueled her on.

She slipped her hands between her legs to brush against her drenched panties. “Like this?”

“Hell. Yes.”

She whipped the tank over her head and turned, tipping forward from her waist so that her hands landed on the bed and her ass waved high in the air. A guttural groan came from behind her, and a moment later he was pressed against her. Rough hands held her in place as he rubbed the hard length of his cock against her ass.

“Holy shit, Wren. You’re incredible.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of her panties and pulled them over her ass and down her legs. “Stay there and let me look.”

Her whole body clenched as cool air drifted across her sex. She’d never done anything like this before. Sex with her previous boyfriends had been bland as cardboard. But she hadn’t known anything else. This, however, seemed natural. Clearly, she’d been missing out.

Then she felt his cock press against her inner thigh, smudging moisture against her. A second later the sound of foil tearing broke through their heavy breathing, and Wren turned to face him, watching him roll the condom down his length.

“We’ll go slow, okay?” His palm cupped her face and she kissed his hand.

“Yes, please.” She reached out to touch him, her fingers skating over the swollen head of his cock.

He eased her back against the bed and used his strong thighs to part her softer ones. The contrast of his warm, brown skin against her fairness sucked the breath out of her lungs. He was so beautiful. So confident and capable and strong.

Yet there was a gentleness to him, a level of care that she wasn’t used to.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in the surroundings. The scent of sex, the unique male aroma mingling with clean laundry, a hint of cologne. She wanted to absorb it all.

“You still with me, Wren?” His lips brushed over her jaw and down her neck.

“All the way.” Her fingers raked down his back as he shifted forward, the head of his cock pressing against her opening.

“Tell me how it feels, okay?” His hand cupped her breast, and he rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Amazing.” The word dissolved into a cry as he pushed inside her, filling her. Taking her.

She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, willing her body to relax into it. As he started moving, all the blood in her body rushed south and she melted against him. Each stroke pushed her higher and higher, his hips bumping her as he built up speed.

He rained kisses down over her. “You feel so good wrapped around me like that.”

“Wrapped around you?” A wicked smile curved on her mouth and she lifted her hips, anchoring her legs around his waist. Urging him to go deeper. Drawing him in.

“Wren!” His hips jerked and he pumped into her, the rhythm frantic as they chased pleasure.

The muscles in his arms corded as he thrust, and she gripped him, digging her nails into his skin. Marking him as hers. Her name fell from his lips as he shuddered inside her.

The silence washed over her as they lay there, tangled in one another, and a deep calm claimed her. Maybe her sister had been right all along. Sex was just what she needed to feel in charge of her life again.

RHYS HOVERED IN that fuzzy stage between sleep and wakefulness as sunlight breached the gaps in his blinds.

Last night had been everything he’d wanted. He and Wren had shared a physical connection that could only be described as electric. Together, their bodies just…worked.

After a steamy shower together, they’d tumbled back into bed and slept soundly until he’d reached for her in the middle of the night. In the darkness everything was new; he’d learned her body all over again. Mapped it with his hands and his tongue. Explored every inch of her until sleep had claimed them once more.

His muscles ached as he stretched, his hand gravitating toward her as if that instinct had already been ground into his subconscious. But his palm connected with a flat surface. Blinking, he pushed up to a sitting position and surveyed the room.

No Wren.

“You have to wake up to reality at some point,” he said to himself.

They hadn’t exactly made any promises to one another last night—it had been raw and unbridled. Spontaneous. Without expectation.

In other words, the total opposite to how he did everything in his life.

He rolled out of bed and padded into the kitchen. The rush of early morning traffic greeted him from the open window, highlighting the quietness of his apartment. Still no Wren. Disappointment curled low in his gut. He’d been hoping to wake up with her and perhaps extend their night of passion into the morning. Before he had the chance to decide how to handle her stealthy exit, his work ringtone cut through the silence and he grabbed the phone from the coffee table.

“Rhys?” Quinn’s excited voice made him cringe. “I’m glad you’re already up.”

He looked at the screen. It wasn’t even seven thirty, and Quinn was notoriously not a morning person. “How much coffee have you had?”

“Not much,” she said in a way that told him she was well and truly caffeinated. “When do you think you’ll be in?”

His gaze swept over the empty apartment. It wasn’t as if he had anything to hang around for given that Wren had vanished. “I’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Why?”

“I couldn’t sleep last night, so I was doing some digging on Sean Ainslie and his employees. I found some interesting stuff.”

If this were any other job he would have told Quinn to run with the information and only come to him when she got stuck—managing the tech side of security for Cobalt & Dane kept him too busy to be involved in every single assignment. But he wanted to keep an eye on the situation in case things became dangerous. It wasn’t too long ago that a seemingly ordinary information security job had resulted in Quinn being cornered alone by a person connected to their client.

He didn’t want anything to happen that might put Quinn—or Wren—in the crosshairs.

“Keep digging,” he said, heading back into his bedroom. “I’ll find you when I get in and you can bring me up to speed.”

By the time Rhys made it into the office, Quinn was almost bouncing off the walls. She sat at one of the senior security consultant’s desks and was talking a hundred miles a minute.

“You’ll have to cut her off, Rhys,” Owen said, laughter crinkling his eyes. “If she consumes any more sugar and caffeine she’ll launch into outer space.”

“I haven’t had that much,” Quinn protested, her smile bright and slightly too wide.

“Her eyeballs are vibrating.”

Rhys shook his head. “You have to take better care of yourself. Coffee is no substitute for sleep.”

Owen snorted. “Have you seen what she drinks? You can’t call that coffee. It’s basically a liquefied energy bar.”

“Come on.” Rhys tilted his head toward the boardroom. “Let’s go through what you found.”

“I invited Owen to sit in,” Quinn said as the three of them headed to the empty room. “He’s got capacity at the moment, so he can accompany me on the site visits rather than taking up more of your time.”

They all took a seat at the large boardroom-style table. The room was often set up as a “war room” for big assignments and strategy planning.

“Are you sure you’ve got capacity, Owen?” Rhys leaned back in his chair and kept his tone even. “I don’t want to take you away from any other assignments that Logan has you working on.”

The senior consultants all reported straight up to Logan Dane, so there was no way Rhys could tell Owen not to assist Quinn with the case, especially if he’d been directed to lend a hand by the big boss.

But that didn’t mean he would let go of the assignment completely, either. Not while Wren could be at risk.

“I’m more than happy to help out,” Owen replied with an easygoing shrug. “Quinn told me there are some tech security elements, which is out of my realm, but I understand there could be some physical security elements, as well. She mentioned a possible break-in attempt.”

The technology and information security stuff fell squarely in Rhys’s territory thanks to the years he’d spent helping banks protect their information. But Owen was a former police officer and had come from a background that made security a key component of his life. A personal obsession, one might say. Between Quinn and Rhys’s tech smarts and Owen’s robust experience, they made the perfect team.

Whatever was going on at Ainslie Ave, they would figure it out quickly and quietly.

“There was a failed attempt to access a locked storage room, but the owner of the gallery couldn’t find any signs of a break-in to the gallery itself,” Rhys said.

Owen nodded. “So we’re looking at the possibility of an inside job.”

“It is possible.” Quinn flipped open her laptop. “But the gallery owner himself is behaving strangely. He’s got this expensive security system for the one storage room and an alarm system for the building. Yet he has no security cameras inside the gallery. It’s possible someone who’s not a staff member got inside without setting off any alarms, but we have zero proof because there’s no footage.”

“So what did you find last night?” Rhys asked, eager to move the conversation along. He drummed his fingers against the top of the desk.

“I was digging around to see if the client has had a falling-out with anyone, or has any shady connections that might point to who’s behind the break-in attempt. Sean Ainslie comes from a very wealthy family. Old money. His father was also a judge, and he retired a few years ago, so I wondered if he might have enemies.”

“Okay,” Rhys said. “And?”

“That’s not what I found.” She held up her hand when he huffed with impatience. “The website has profiles for all the interns that he currently has working for them: Lola, Wren and Aimee.”

“So what?”

“Well, the old profiles of the past employees are still saved in the back end of the gallery’s website. I compiled all the head shots.” Quinn turned her laptop around so Owen and Rhys could see the screen. “Do you detect a common theme?”

Fifteen young female faces stared back at him. Wren’s fair skin and blue eyes immediately captured his attention. In the photo, she was laughing. Her eyes shone like they had last night when he’d taken her to bed.

Memories flooded him, his body instantly recalling the feeling of her hands on his chest. Cupping his face. His ass as he thrust into her.

“Boss?” Quinn waved a hand in front of him. “I said, ‘Do you detect a common theme?’”

“They’re all young women.” He shrugged. “What’s your point?”

“Attractive young women,” Owen added. “Are you thinking that he might have become involved with his interns?”

Quinn nodded. “It’s very possible. Especially since I found photos of him with a few of these women at industry events.”

Rhys’s stomach churned at the thought of Sean hitting on Wren. “Go on.”

“One news article references a huge fight he had with a Marguerite Bernard. It said that his gallery was hosting a show for another local artist but the night ended abruptly when the couple had a huge screaming match and he kicked everyone out. According to her website she started working at a different gallery a few months later.”

“It could just be a lover’s quarrel,” Rhys said.

“I wouldn’t have thought much of it until I saw this.” She reached around the computer and brought up another picture.

It was a picture of a woman. Swelling had almost closed her eye over completely and an eggplant-colored bruise mottled her fair complexion. The skin appeared to be split across her cheekbone.

“Shit,” Owen muttered, shaking his head in disgust.

Rhys grunted in agreement and clenched his fists.

“This is Marguerite Bernard,” Quinn continued. “This picture was posted on her Instagram page two days after the incident at the gallery. The caption says, ‘He will get away with this. His father will protect him and I won’t have the chance for justice. Remember, control is not love.’ There are a bunch of hashtags under it, as well. She doesn’t reference Sean by name, but the timing certainly fits.”

Fighting back the sick feeling in his stomach, Rhys tried to focus on the job at hand. Now, with even more reason to be worried for Wren’s safety, he needed to ensure that they handled this situation accordingly. Knowing Quinn’s background and recent experience, she might want to jump in and blame Ainslie. But they had to tread carefully, refrain from doing anything that might spook him until they had more information.

Which meant Rhys needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I understand this is very disturbing,” he said. “But I still don’t see what this has to do with the potential break-ins. Do you think Marguerite might have done it?”

“Not necessarily, but I’ve looked into a few of the other women who’ve worked for Ainslie, and a number didn’t stay at the gallery very long.” She closed the lid on her laptop. “I’m going to reach out to them and ask if they experienced anything shady about Ainslie’s practices.”

“You seem to be treating him like a suspect rather than a client,” Rhys warned.

Her head bobbed. “I have a funny feeling about this guy. Something doesn’t seem right, but point taken. I’ll be discreet.”

“I thought Quinn and I might head over to the gallery later today so I can suss this guy out,” Owen added. “Can’t hurt to get another set of eyes on him, right?”

“Of course.” Rhys nodded. “I want to be kept fully updated on this assignment. Okay, Quinn?”

“Are you worried that I won’t be able to handle it?” Her eyes narrowed at him.

He drew a deep breath. Quinn’s insecurities had certainly improved since she’d started dating Aiden, but her journey to confidence wasn’t one that would happen overnight. Just as her defensive shield still popped up from time to time.

“Did I say that?”

“No,” she admitted.

“I’ve met with the client. Therefore, my name is stamped on this, and I don’t take that lightly.” He turned to Owen. “Quinn will run with this assignment and you can provide guidance and mentoring as appropriate.”

Owen nodded. “Got it.”

Rhys stood. “Good. I expect an update tomorrow morning.”

In the meantime, he would have to stay occupied so he didn’t drive himself crazy over Wren. No easy task, since her beautiful face appeared the second his brain wasn’t fully engaged on a task.

It’s just a fling. She’s already made it clear that she’s not going to stay, and the sooner you believe that, the saner you’ll be.

Unfortunately for Rhys, knowing she was leaving didn’t necessarily mean he could avoid wanting her to stay.