Impulses (63 page)

Standing at the end of the dining table, I clutch my left hand around the top of one of the backrests of the chairs. Hayden sets his briefcase at his feet and uncurls his left arm from behind his back with a flourish like a magician…he can work any of his tricks on me.

He presents me with an enormous bouquet of deep red roses, with speckles of baby’s breath, wrapped in a red film.

Hmm…baby’s breath…how apt?

“Oh, Hayden…” I take them from him, and bury my nose into the center of the arrangement. They smell heavenly. “They’re beautiful,” I hold back my tears and gaze up at the insanely, sexy man in front of me, “thank you.”

With my nausea at bay, I step into him, push myself up onto my toes, and meet his lips. I coax his mouth open with flicks of my tongue, and he grants me access, mirroring my fervor. I fist my right hand into his hair, holding him to me as our kiss deepens and becomes wilder, more…carnal.

He pulls away, a smile forming on the mouth that he should be using to devour mine.
No, come back.
He sets his left hand on the side of my face. The warmth of his touch and his intoxicating scent is a welcomed distraction through my hazed disorientation. His eyes are bright and affectionate.

“You are more than welcome. And––”

“There’s more?” I shriek, flabbergasted. My eyes widen with dazed curiosity. He laughs, and it’s dry and masculine, the vibrations that are emitted from his throat in one single, innocent sound makes everything south of my waist clench with delicious force. “I am very glad you find me amusing, Mr. Wentworth.”

“You have your moments, Miss Kennedy,” he whispers.

He proffers a large crimson box, bound with a white satin ribbon from under his arm. I set the arrangement of blossoms in the center of the table and warily accept the package. I stare down at it, unaware of what to do next.

“I hope you like it.”

I peek up at the most desirable man in San Francisco as he stands before me. His hands buried in his pants pockets, while he rocks to and fro on his heels. His eyes flared as he glimpses at the package in my hands, then back at me. “Open it then.”

I set my surprise on the dining table and begin to unravel the ribbon. I remove the lid, and unfold the white tissue paper that shrouds the contents.

Winded, I look up at Hayden who towers over me, at my right. He wraps his arm around my waist. “I hope you like it,” he murmurs, and I feel his lips forming the words against my scalp. He kisses the top of my head.

I divert my focus back down at the finest, red satin material. Scattered crystals embroiled on the halter-neck bodice. Grasping both sides, I hold it up in awe as I examine its magnificence. The light ricochets from the surface of the crystals, just like my engagement ring.

“Hayden, I love it.”

“I thought we could go out tonight, and celebrate…properly. Considering we haven’t done so yet. That is, if you’re feeling up to it.”

I gently lower the bodice back into the box, turn to Hayden and place both my hands on the side of his gorgeous face. I push back the lock on his brow. “I would love to. Thank you.”

His contentment is palpable as he swiftly seeks out my lips with his own, the pressure and the fullness of his flesh pressing and working against me with growing vehemence, liquefies my insides and ignites my body. When his hand fists into my hair and his other lay splayed at the small of me back, pulling me against the growing structure of his awaking erection, I know I am igniting his body, too.

“Go and get ready, Miss Kennedy,” he orders breathlessly after drawing away.

I gather the package from the surface of the table. As I turn to head to my bedroom, he playfully swats my behind. Through my girlish giggles, I shake my head in faux disapproval.

“Coffee?” he calls as I approach the corridor that shelters my bedroom.

I turn on my heel to face the way of the kitchen. Immobilized by confusion, I frown.

“Where’s, Jessie? I’ve only just noticed how quiet it is.” Attentively, I scan the length of the apartment.

Hayden collects the stainless silver kettle and strolls over to the faucet. There must be no coffee in the machine. He stops, and picks up a piece of paper from the breakfast bar.

“’Didn’t want to wake you, sweetie. Had to go to the store, won’t be too long. Jessie’.” He recites her note, shrugs his shoulders and places it back onto the surface. “Coffee?” he repeats while I turn and continue making my way down to my room.

“No thanks, hon. I won’t be, too, long.”

Wow.
I stand gazing into the full-length mirror admiring the woman staring back at me. My hair is deeply waved, repetitive ‘S’ shapes laced through from root to tip and drawn across my left shoulder. My eyes are dark, smoky silvery-gray and my lips a subtle shade of red.

The dress is a crimson satin, mermaid halter-neck, evening gown. The slit on the left-side is extremely risqué, trailing up my leg, and stopping at the top of my thigh. There is a trail of gemstones evenly spread-out on each side of the divided material. The neckline plunges into a racy ‘V’ that ends at the bottom of my sternum; a thin, satin strap connects either side between my breasts. Again, it is comprised with generously scatted, glimmering gemstones, which sparkle in the light. My silver, strappy heels compliment my silver clutch purse, which shelters my cell and sonogram photo.

Might as well make it a double celebration…I hope…

Removing the Band-Aid on my inner left-arm, I retrieve a red wrap and arrange it so it conceals the slight bruising and sticky strips.

“Wow, Samantha. You look absolutely…wow,” Hayden gawps at me with a ridiculous grin and fists his hands through his hair.

I reward him with a quick twirl.

“Hayden, I love it.” Although this will most probably be the first and last time I will ever be able to wear it. I glance down the length of my body and sigh sombrely, but attempt to disguise my budding apprehension with a smile.

Watching and secretly goading him, he starts prowling towards me with the grace of a caged predator approaching his confines. And the sliver of unease is scattered along with any other emotions I have coiling around my head. The internal vibrations that make my nerve-endings plead for stimulation, and the tensing of muscles that he is deliberately prompting in me is too intense to ignore…so I embrace it and concentrate solely on the degree of yearning I have for my man.

He softly caresses the side of my face.
Tell him, Samantha. Tell him, two words, that is all. Just tell him you’re pregnant,
my subconscious cajoles me, swirling a tumbler of amber liquid, as she swings her upper, crossed leg.

What I would give for a drink about now.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes from it.

“It’s 6:15 p.m., reservations are for 6:45 p.m., shall we go?” I nod, and he chivalrously offers his arm to me.

As we stroll to the door, I slip my arm free from the warm crook of Hayden’s. “Hold on,” I protest and dash over to the breakfast bar. Retrieving a pen and Jessie’s note, I flip the parchment over, and quickly write:

Jess, I’m feeling better.

I have gone to dinner with Hayden to celebrate…properly.

See you later––love you. X

“Ready?”

I nod with blatant enthusiasm, while dashing my tongue across my lips. “Ready.”

“Where are we going?” I ask with undoubted excitement, as we drive towards the office.

“Actually, Samantha––” my excitement marginally diminishes as I sense the uncertainty in his tone. He glances at me, and then back on the road ahead of him. “As I hastily left work early to be with you, I forgot a document that I really shouldn’t have forgotten.”

I didn’t ask you to finish work early,
my inner-bitch scoffs.

“Considering we’re heading in this general direction, I hope you don’t mind if we quickly stop at the office and
then
make our way to dinner?”

“Sure,” I hitch a shoulder in a blasé shrug, and reign in the temperamental outburst of me, myself and I. I’m so confused; if I’m not ill then I’m angry, frustrated and easily riled. If I’m not that, I’m sarcastic. I risk a quick peek at the man to my left. He’s so confident when he’s driving…and working in the office, and with me. His left arm perched on the window of the door, as his hand caresses the steering wheel with relaxed ease. I take a moment to appraise his features: his strong, chiseled jaw, his straight nose, perfect lips and that chocolate curl, his stubble which is so temptingly arousing.

I sigh in defeat and look out towards the passing buildings along my right…and now I am beyond sexually frustrated.
Great.

I have never felt so ridiculous in my life. Walking passed security, through the lobby of Stalwart Tower, the building which houses Wentworth and Associates, in a very racy evening gown, dolled up to the nines, because my boss has no idea how the filing system of his own firm works, and no idea as to where Chloe would have placed the document he hastily forgot.

“I am awfully sorry for the imposition, gentlemen.” Hayden takes my hand, leading me to the bank of elevators.

“It’s not a problem at all, Mr. Wentworth,” the small, heavy-built, bald man retorts from behind the desk.

The elevator pings, and the door swiftly opens, allowing us entry. Hayden nods at the security personnel, and steers me into the car.

As we begin our ascent, I feel a buzz surrounding my body, tethering Hayden and I together, weaving its way between us––possessing us like an ethereal force. By the time we reach the fifth floor, I am already breathless. The ache in my abdomen and my sex is too intense to overlook, too pleasant to want to discount, but too frustrating to bear. I hold onto the brass bar on the wall of the elevator as I combat the weakening feeling from my hips down.

“Are you, okay, beautiful?”

Still clutching the bar for dear-life, I gaze up at a concerned Hayden. I lick my drying lips, and slowly, deliberately shake my head. Swallowing the unpleasant feeling that my parched throat has left behind, I utter, “I need you,” and lunge myself toward him like a pouncing mountain-lioness. My lips settle over his. Within a moment of him realizing what is happening, he opens his mouth and works against my own as tongues delve into passionate depths with vigour and scorching need.

I pin him with my hips against the wall, my right hand cupping the side of his face, while my left hand greedily explores his body through his attire. His broad shoulders, firm chest, and taut torso all welcoming my touch as I slip down to the waistband of his pants.

His left hand cradles the nape of my neck, while his right hand skilfully delves between the split of my dress, his fingertips lightly grazing my upper thigh. Rounding my hip beneath the shimmering fabric, he grasps the flesh of my naked behind. Unable to conceal the effect he has on me––on my body, I moan flagrantly into his mouth, and allow my wandering hand to feel the thickening, growing evidence of his arousal.

He mumbles something against my lips, but I am too consumed by my hunger for him to even contemplate what he said.

When I raise my left leg, fully exposing its length and brush it against his outer thigh, he wrenches his frenzied lips away from mine.

“Camera’s,” he pants and glances inconspicuously up to the corner behind my right shoulder.

“Let’s give them something to watch, then.”

He halts me as I lean in to connect our mouths once more. His smouldering scrutiny bores deep into me, but there is a hint of nervousness in their depths. Gently smoothing the back of his fingertips down the side of my face, he searches my eyes. “Your brazenness has no bounds, Miss Kennedy.”

My expression grows serious. “It’s not brazenness, Hayden. It’s extensive, undiluted desire. I’m physically unable to get enough of you; I need you all the fucking time. This is what you do to me.”

His unspoken, thwarting expression sends a cold shudder through my heated body; I sense a form of contentment, flawed by ruin, austerity. A gnawing contemplation radiates from his demeanor, and I cannot help but vaguely ponder whether he’s digging into the knowledge or proof of my former years; desire and impulsion…never a sensible mix if you’re irresponsible.

My stomach rises to my throat then free falls back into its correct position when our ride in the elevator comes to an abrupt end. The familiar ping as the doors glide open is my indication to release Hayden from the wall of the car.

I step out, and before me are the doors to the firm. Hayden’s hand grasping at my elbow freezes me mid-step. He spins me around to face him.

Oh that face…He’s glowering down at me, his jaw tensing under the prickly surface. His eyes intense, penetrative and I am under his spell––just like I was that day nearly four months ago––completely hypnotized by this striking, caring man that has a dark and moody side.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what, Samantha.” His eyes tighten and his words are curt.

“Stop looking at me like that, unless you are going to take me here and now and kill this ache between my legs…” I step into him, my body flush against his, moulding myself to his shape. “…the ache within me, that is only spurred by you, and can only be alleviated by you and you alone,” I finish softly, barely audible, my features both powerful and teeming with profound meaning.

His eyes soften, as does the remainder of his features at my words. The corner of his mouth twitches with what I can only speculate as relief and assurance…maybe a shard of wry amusement at my current, sexual predicament. Tracing his fingertips down the length of the side of my neck and along my collarbone, he leans into me; his gentle breath tickling the surface of my flesh, making my knees go weak, and my nipples strain.

“Later, I promise.”

“I will hold you to that, Mr. Wentworth,” I say dryly before he kisses me.

Skirting me, he pushes open one of the frosted glass doors, takes my hand, and leads me into the darkness.

“Wait; let me turn on the light. I don’t want you falling and breaking your neck.”

“Oh, Hayden––ever the romantic,” I tease, standing immobile, enclosed by the darkness.