Late Call (Volume 1) (18 page)

The tiny stores are full of designer apparel. The only difference is the price—and it’s a big difference. A black knee-length dress with a pink patterned flirty skirt catches my eye. I run my finger down the seam and pull it out.

I nibble on the inside of my lip. It’s gorgeous. My size. A dress that could be dressed up or down depending on the occasion. With the pink heeled pumps across the store…

It’s a Paris kind of dress.

Taking a deep breath and refusing to linger on that last thought, I hold it to my chest and find the pink shoes. They’re my size, and there’s no way I can’t not buy them. This is one of the crazy little ‘fate’ moments Liv mutters about that I’ve never believed in.

Mostly because she talks about love and fate. This is shoes and fate. Totally different ballgame.

I take them to the counter and the olive-skinned girl behind it beams at me. I ignore the way my stomach rolls at the cost and reach for my card.

But it’s not mine I find. There’s a black American Express card with a bit of paper wrapped around it.

I know you too well.

A

A smile wins out over the pursing of my lips, and I hand her that card—begrudgingly—since mine is nowhere in sight.
That asshole…

I leave the store with a small smile, despite being caught. I’ll let him have that simply because I have no other choice, but he’s not getting away with it that easily.

You’re sneaky, Mr. Stone. Nice move.

I tuck my cell back into my pocket and enter the
Galleria
.
And holy crap!
Is there a place in this city not completely shrouded in beauty? The glass ceiling stretches high above me, and I’m surrounded by the elite shops, old and at home in this Italian city.

Prada looms before me, and there’s something magical about knowing I’m standing in front of the very first store. Chanel might be my preference of label, if only because of the country in which it started, but Prada is a close second.

My feet pull me toward the store like a moth flies toward a light. There’s no hesitation… Wait, can I fit anything else in my closet? Or my suitcases? Never mind. I don’t plan to buy. I plan to look and touch and dream.

I think this over and over.
Look and touch and dream. Look and touch and dream. Look and touch and dream.

Yep. I will behave, especially since I don’t have my card. As much as Aaron—and Monique—says that he has to pay for everything, I disagree. The strong, independent woman in me balks at the very idea.

Clothes. Everywhere. Shoes. Purses. Coats.
Dresses.

Oh. This store is like a little slice of heaven set in a very large pie.

“Mi scusi, signora,”
a gentle voice says from behind me.
“Sei Signora Black?”

My eyes widen, and I turn to face a young blond-haired woman. “I’m Miss Black, yes, but I’m afraid I don’t speak Italian.”

She beams. “No problem. We have a message for you from
Signor
Stone.”

I think my eyebrows just met my hairline. “You do?”

“Si.” She nods. “He ask that we tell you to purchase anything you like and charge the account.”

Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? And more to the point, why wouldn’t he have an account at Prada?

“Right.” I laugh uncomfortably. “Please don’t think I’m being rude—that isn’t my intention—but how did you know it was me?”

Her smile widens a little. “He send us a picture this morning.”

Of course he fucking did.

“He say you’re very important to him.”

I’m gonna kill him.

“Well, thank you…” I glance at her tag. “Adelina. I’m just here to browse, so I won’t be needing Mr. Stone’s account today.”

“Well, um,
Signora
Black, he ask you don’t leave without something.”

I take a deep breath and note the wringing of her hands. She’s clearly new and not cut out for this job.

“Okay. Could I speak to your manager?”

She nods and disappears in the back of the store. What the fuck? Is this real? Walk into a random store and get told I
have
to buy something on someone else’s account?

I pull out my cell and open the unread message.

Surprise…

Surprise? I’ll give you a fucking surprise next time you’re naked and turn your back! I fire the message back, and the response is immediate.

Enjoy Prada… Their SS14 collection is beautiful.

Asshole.

I shove it back in my purse in time to notice the tall, dark-haired woman approaching me. She’s as thin as a stick and pinches her lips when she looks at me. I know exactly what she’s thinking—I’m not what she expected.

God forbid anyone with a couple of extra pounds on their ass should walk into Prada and ask for the manager.

“
Signora
Black, how can I help you?” The manager clasps her hands in front of her stomach.

I meet her mildly disapproving look. Friendly lady. “Adelina here has just informed me I’m not to leave without a purchase on Mr. Stone’s account. Is this correct?”

“
Si
. He called this morning and was very specific.”

“I understand. Do you have somewhere I can go to call him in private?”

She nods and leads me to the staff area at the back without a word. She pauses at the door and looks me over, her dark eyes calculating. “Forgive me for saying so, but you aren’t what I expected.”

“Excuse me?” I spin, but she’s already gone.

If it’s really about the ass thing, she could do with a candy bar or two.

I dial Aaron’s number and hope he picks up. I don’t have any of the office numbers—I don’t need them. I don’t usually have to call him to chew out his ass about this kind of crap.

“Find anything nice?”

“In Prada? So far all I have is a shy sales girl and an absolute bitch of a manager who has a vendetta about the extra three pounds on my ass.”

His laugh warms my annoyed body. “I like those extra three pounds.”

“That’s where you’re supposed to say, ‘Extra pounds? What extra pounds?’” I snort. “That’s not the point. I’m not allowed to leave without buying something?”

“Oh, good. They told you.”

“Uh, yeah, they told me, and I’m pissed.”

He says nothing, a heavy silence lingering between us.

“You don’t get to do that, Aaron.” And it clicks. “Holy shit. You told the concierge to send me here, didn’t you?”

“No. I merely suggested it in case you should ask what’s worth seeing. Telling you was his choice, Dayton.”

“Don’t blame this on the concierge with the nice ass.”

“Watch your mouth, woman.”

“Then don’t piss me off.” I grit my teeth. “What if I don’t like anything here?”

“Then you can buy the fitted black dress.”

I’m not even going to think about how he knows a specific item. “It sounds like you’ve already decided for me.”

“It’s reserved for you.”

“You’re a presumptuous bastard, aren’t you?”

“She’s learning.” He chuckles. “Get the dress.”

“No.”

“Get the fucking dress, Dayton. End of discussion.”

“And if I don’t?” I click my tongue.

“I’ll arrange for it to be delivered to the hotel tomorrow. You may as well save me the trouble since you’re there.”

I exhale loudly and rub my temple. “Controlling isn’t a good look on you.”

I hang up and drop my phone into my purse. Again. I’m like a jack-in-the-box where he’s concerned. The Jack is my temper and he’s the lever, winding and winding and winding until I snap.

“I’ll take the black dress Mr. Stone reserved,” I say through a tightened jaw. Fucking asshole. I’ll make him pay for this—and not in money.

“
Si
. He has fabulous taste,
Signor
Stone, does he not?” the manager questions as she wraps it in tissue paper in a box.

“Excellent.” I fake a smile. “What did you mean a moment ago? I wasn’t what you were expecting?”

Silently, she puts the lid down and slips it into a bag. “The dress is charged to
Signor
Stone’s account. I’m sure you will look wonderful,
signora
.”

“What did you mean?” My voice is harder as I push it.

She gives me a smile, one lined with the bitchiness she hasn’t hidden since she approached me. “Forgive me. It was a slip of the tongue.”

She disappears, leaving me staring after her in confusion.

I stir when the bed dips next to me.

“Shh.” Aaron’s breathy whisper caresses my cheek. “It’s me.”

I yawn, rubbing my eyes. “What time is it?”

“One a.m.”

“You’re late.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He pulls me into him.

He wraps his arms around me. My body is flush against his, and I snuggle into his hold. Our feet tangle together and my hands wrap around his arms. Warmth spreads through me at the touch of his lips on my head, and I smile.

“What are you doing?”

“Holding you. That’s all.”

I move deeper into his touch. “I’m still mad, you know.” I yawn again.

“I know, Bambi. I know.” He buries his face in my hair. “Sleep now.”

Tingles shoot through my body. I roll onto my back, open my heavy-lidded eyes, and stare into a pair of bright blue ones.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Aaron mutters back, dropping his face to mine. His lips sweep across mine softly but firmly, and he sinks his fingers deep into my hair.

“What time is it?”

“Six.” He drops kisses along my jaw and onto my neck.

“Early.”

“Mhmm.” He continues his downward journey with his mouth, pausing at my breasts. He cups one with his hand and runs his nose along the side of it. “Beautiful.”

The tingles turn to a simmering heat when he takes my nipple in his mouth and rolls his tongue around it. His teeth graze it and he sucks lightly, easing the sting, and moves to the other. I push my head back.

“Is this how you wake a girl up?”

“It’s how I wake you up.” He flips on top of me and his large erection presses against the lace at my core.

The simmer turns to a boil, blood pumping through my body at a lightning speed. Desire floods through me at the feel of his lips on my skin and his thumbs ghosting over my hardened nipples. My hips push into him, my body craving him and the inevitable release he’ll give.

“I forgot how impatient you are in the morning.” He licks a slow trail from my breastbone to my panty line, his tongue dipping into my belly button as he goes.

“I don’t like being… Oh, shit!”

I gasp at the fleeting touch of his tongue hitting my clit through the lace.

“What were you saying?” His nose brushes along the inside of my thigh, and he bends my legs. He hooks his finger in the side of my panties and pauses before moving them. “Hm?”

“Saying? Who was saying anything?” I crook my neck and look down at him. Air fills my lungs at my long, needing breath. Fuck. Aaron Stone’s face between my legs is about the sexiest thing. Fucking ever.

“Good girl.”

He moves the lace and runs his tongue along my pussy in one long, caressing sweep. The sensations fly everywhere as he takes up a slow assault with his mouth. The deep, probing movements of his tongue and lips are akin to the way you’d give a leaving lover a final kiss. They’re long and slow and…

A moan echoes around the room. I shudder when he slips his tongue up me, and my muscles clench involuntarily. His muffled groan follows the moan I know came from me.

“You can’t do that, Dayton,” he says and closes his lips around my clit. He sucks hard, pleasure filling my body. “It makes me think about being inside you too much.”

“Not a bad thing,” I breathe, closing my eyes.

“Soon.” He probes my thighs with his fingertips. “Look at me.”

I crane my neck up, my lids heavy from the constant flooding of pleasure. They drop, and Aaron pinches my ass.

“Keep your eyes open. I want to watch you come on my tongue.”

Oh, sweet fuck.
His words send my body into overdrive, and it isn’t long before he’s holding my hips down. I find his eyes after he snaps my name for a third time, and looking into them is like being held captive. I couldn’t fight it if I wanted to, but looking at him, I know I was wrong. There is something sexier than Aaron Stone’s face between my legs.

The sexiest thing in this fucking world is his face between my legs while he explores me with his tongue.

I explode with that final thought, and he works me through it. He doesn’t pull his mouth from me until I’m done and my hips are still again.

He pulls my legs up, lifts me, and pushes us up the bed. My back rests against the headboard, and he holds me above him as he frees his cock from his boxers. He fills me in one swift movement, and I throw my head back at the sudden stretching of my channel.

My muscles wrap around him tightly, holding him inside me, easing with each gentle thrust of his hips. He fills me so completely and pushes me to the absolute limit of what I can take that bringing me to the edge is so easy. So quick.

And he’s so in tune with my body that when he feels me getting close, he distracts me with his mouth.

“Not yet,” he says into our kiss. “You’re not allowed.”

“Controlling bastard,” I gasp, my body trembling with the force of holding back.

He laughs and pushes deep into me. A string of swear words leaves my mouth, and I clamp down on his cock. Fuck if I can hold this back any longer.

“Dayton,” he grinds my name out, his thrusts gaining speed. “Hold it!”

“I can’t!” I yell. My head is rocking side to side and my whole body is locked in tension. I can’t hold it. Not anymore.

I meet his thrust with my pussy muscles as tight as I can make them and slam down onto him. He yells his release as my orgasm finally rockets through my body, my limbs trembling in a blissful rush. I feel him come inside me in hot spurts, and I feel his hands at my hips holding me to him.

“Jesus,” he breathes, burying his face into my neck. “Really couldn’t hold back, could you?”

I shake my head. “And I wasn’t going alone.”

His lips touch my skin. “No. You weren’t.”

He wraps his arms around my body, and I hook my feet together behind his back. He’s still hard inside me, and as I sigh into his hair, I’m struck by a barrage of overwhelming feelings.

Of fulfillment. Of happiness. Of belonging.

Of completeness.

“Shower,” Aaron orders, moving back and pulling me with him. He carries me into the bathroom as I’m laughing into his shoulder and gets in the shower before turning on the water. Ice-cold water sprays over us and I scream, squirming to get away from it.

His laugh washes over me the way the warming water does. “Just a little cold water, Day.”

“Put me down now,” I sigh, pressing my hands on his shoulders.

Aaron shakes his head and pushes me against the wall. “I’m not done with you yet.” He rocks his hips against me. His cock hardens immediately and hits
that
very tender spot with his next thrust.

“Again?” My fingers find his hair again and wind themselves in it.

“Oh, Dayton. If you think I’ll ever get enough of you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“But we just—”

He silences me with a kiss as demanding as the thrusts of his cock inside me. “I love it when you come. I love the sounds you make and the way you feel. If I could spend all day playing with your body and making you come, I would. So now, when I have the chance to make it happen again, I’m going to.”

I cry out at a long, slow ease into me.

“I’m going to send you into a crazy fucking oblivion every chance I get because I need you to know what you do to me. You take me over until there’s nothing left but you.” His grip on me tightens as his hips move faster, his gentle thrusts of earlier now hard pounds. “This is what you do to me, Dayton. You make me fucking crazy.”

I pant at his frantic movements, my breath mingling with his, and stare into his eyes as I feel a third orgasm build inside. “Take me there.” I seal my lips over his. “To that crazy fucking oblivion.”

He does. I fall apart in his arms yet again, his release seconds behind me, and collapse against him. After a minute of languid kisses he pulls out of me, leaving me with the same sense of emptiness that always accompanies that action.

We wash each other in the shower, something more intimate than I’m ready for but so right in this moment. He massages my head as he works in the shampoo and threads his fingers through my hair as he strokes conditioner through it.

He dries me with a towel and wraps me in a robe before leading me back to the bed. I pull the covers and smile sleepily at him.

“You really know how to wake a girl up.”

“So you’ve said.” Aaron smiles and rests his nose alongside mine.

“Yeah, I mean it this time.” I grin, brushing the backs of my fingers along his cheek. “Did you say it was six in the morning?”

“It was. Now it’s past seven, and I have to get ready. I have a meeting at eight.”

I accept his gentle kiss and nod. “When will you be back?”

“Not until late again. I’m sorry I’m leaving you to see the city alone.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. I actually enjoyed it yesterday, barring obvious things. I’m sure I can find something to do today—without any suggestions from the concierge.” I give him a pointed look.

He laughs and pulls on some pants. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. I was going to decide when I woke up, but I was distracted by someone.”

“Oh, well. What about an art museum? I lost you in the
Louvre
more than once.”

He really does remember everything.

“Maybe. Where do you recommend?”

He raises his eyebrows.

“I thought we’d cut out the middle man. I know how you hate concierges, especially ones with nice butts.”

“Should I be offended you’re mentioning the concierge’s ass after fucking me?”

“Passing comment.” I snuggle beneath the covers. “Well?”

“
Pinacoteca di Brera.
Call me when you want to go and I’ll have a car take you. It’s a few miles from here.” He stills before knotting his tie. “Concierge cut,” he adds on a mutter.

I grin. “You sounded like an Italian when you said that.”

“Said what?
Pinacoteca di Brera
?”

“Yep. Oh, wait. Let me guess—you speak Italian as well as French?”

He buttons his jacket and looks at me with sparkling eyes. “
Si
.”

“Of course you speak the two most romantic languages in the world.” I roll my eyes.

His deep laugh comforts me and he walks to the bed. He bends down, placing his lips near my ear. “A language is only romantic if you believe in romance itself,” he whispers. “And I do.”

“Maybe I do.”

“
Forse il tuo forse non è sufficiente quando i tuoi occhi mi lasciano senza fiato e il tuo tocco mi fa sentire vivo. Non quando l’amore che abbiamo avuto è bollente sotto la superficie. Non quando sono così pronta a permettere al mio amore per te di consumare me ancora una volta
.” He kisses my cheek and strolls from the room.

“What does that mean?”

“When you get there, I’ll tell you.”

The door closes on his words, and I close my eyes on a huff.

If I had enough energy to get up, I’d throw another mug at him.

I sit back on the plush sofa and prop my feet on the coffee table. The
Pinacoteca di Brera
art museum is a full day out for someone like me—someone who can meander casually through endless hallways of paintings for hours. Surrounded by both natives and tourists, I was lost in a sea of awed eyes and bored yawns.

The paintings should have taken me away. The crowds that walked the hallways with me, alive with hushed chatter, should have pulled me into the environment in its fullest, but they didn’t. The pictures didn’t give me a wondered escape from reality. All I could think of every time someone yawned was Aaron.

The way he used to grab my hand and fake one, begging to leave the
Louvre
. The way he used to grumble in my ear as I dragged him from room to room. The way he used to groan whenever I asked to go back.

And the way he always, always used to go with me, even though he hated it.

I’m lonely.

I’ll admit it. Being here with him but not having him around is harder than I thought it would be. This is what I wanted. I wanted to spend as little time with him as possible to protect my heart and keep my sanity intact. But now that I have it, I don’t want it.

I want him to sigh in my ear and mumble in a bored tone as I gaze longingly at a picture. I want him to wrap his fingers around mine and pull me through the gallery quickly. And I want him to stop my yelling at him by silencing me with a kiss.

I want everything I can’t have.

Everything that’s addictive and beautiful and inspiring. The things that make you wake with a laugh and fall asleep with a smile. The tender touches and knowing glances and inside jokes. I want the random skips of my heart and coiling of my stomach, and I want the butterflies whenever he walks in the room. I want to give myself over fully to the feelings I’m burying, the feelings I’m not ready or strong enough to take and accept.

I want to give in to the love simmering deep in my bones—the very same love that will consume me and possess me. The love that will lead me to obsess and be obsessed over. The love that never really went away, despite the distance between us.