The Ground Rules (14 page)

“Wow. You’re really not like other guys, are you?”

“That’s what I like to think.”

“How far?” I ask, curiosity killing me.

He reaches for my hand. “About ten minutes.” I intertwine my fingers in his, thinking this day is not turning out as I had planned. I decide I’m going to commit, or not commit, but a decision needs to be made. And if I do what I really want to do, I’ll be having a rather explosive conversation with Gabe.

I can’t seem to peel my eyes away from him—I like this version of him—casual, more laid-back, less rigid. He seems more human.

“C’mon,” I urge him, giving him my sexiest smile. “Tell me where we’re going.”

He presses a finger against his lips. “I’m not saying a word.”

He looks happy.
I’ve
made him happy. And suddenly, I feel so powerful.

When we get to our destination, I recognize the place as soon as I see the large pillars standing tall at the front of the classic building. I’ve been here with the girls…they love Shedd Aquarium.

“Well, that explains the fish tie and cufflinks,” I say as he leads me up the stairs to the entrance.

“You’ve noticed those? You’re very observant.”

He has no idea that I’ve mentally catalogued practically every detail of him—what he’s said, what he’s worn…everything.

“So, you like fish,” I say as we stand to buy tickets.

“All sea life really. All underwater creatures. It’s another world.”

“Do you dive?” I want to know more about this obsession.

“I try as much as I can. And I go snorkeling with Bridget and the kids. Do you snorkel?”

“No.” I laugh. “I’m a decent swimmer but breathing out of a tube really freaks me out. It panics me every time I try.”

He looks at me and smiles but doesn’t say a word.

“What?”

“Well, maybe one day, I can teach you,” he offers.

I laugh. “I think I’ll pass on that. Where do you do all this snorkeling?”

He pulls out his wallet to pay for the tickets. “Mostly Hawaii. We have a place down there.”

Of course
…they have a place in Hawaii.

“Well, if you’re going to teach me in Hawaii, I think I’ve changed my mind,” I joke, knowing very well he’ll never take me to Hawaii.

He laughs. “Have you ever been?”

“Nope,” I tell him, not elaborating. I’ve never been anywhere it seems.

The cashier hands him our tickets, and we make our way to the exhibits.

He leads me, occasionally putting his hand on the small of my back as we walk through the Caribbean exhibit. We’re surrounded by colorful fish, beautiful coral, sea turtles, green eels, and rays. He’s right…it is quite magical when you take the time to appreciate it.

I enjoy walking along with him as he tells me about the sea life. I can tell he’s very passionate about it—he’s a walking encyclopedia, telling me interesting facts occasionally. I like seeing him this animated—he’s usually so subdued. He’s like a little kid…an adorable little kid.

“You’ve always liked ocean life?”

“Since I was about two, according to my mother,” he says, not quite looking at me. “It was an obsession. Apparently, I amassed a giant collection of all the sea life books in existence.”

“The whole Jacques Cousteau collection?”

He laughs. “Of course.”

Every now and then, he looks over at me with the slightest hint of a smile, his beautiful almond shaped eyes driving me insane. It seems no matter where we are…I am hopeless when it comes to him.

“Which sea animal is your favorite?” he asks.

I’ve never considered it. After a moment’s thought, I decide. “The sea turtles, I guess.”

“Good choice,” he says, taking my hand in his. “They’re beautiful. You should see them in their natural habitat…they’re incredible.”

I sigh a little. I would love to see that with him, to see all those wonderful creatures he loves. Bridget is the one who gets to share those experiences. And unexpectedly, I feel a little pang of jealousy, and I try to shove the thoughts away. I’ve mentally trained myself to not think about her…but sometimes, it’s very challenging.

We finally make our way to the jellyfish exhibit, and I’m absolutely mesmerized—mushroom-shaped, almost transparent creatures, glowing, bopping and swaying against the glowing background, pumping like hearts—it’s a magnificent display of nature.

We stand there for the longest time, just the two of us, watching them, not saying a word. I sense Weston’s presence behind me with every cell in my body—his breath on my shoulder, his hand on my waist. His lips brush softly against the back of my neck. I close my eyes and suddenly feel limp, like one of those jellyfish, bouncing, floating…

I think about what I vowed. About everything I promised myself. I shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t want this.

But I don’t just want him…I need him.

I turn toward him, and his lips meet mine. My mouth opens for his, and his tongue teases. His mouth tastes like spearmint. His kiss is soft and incredibly sensual. I feel myself melt into him and completely lose sense of my surroundings.

We hear voices in the distance, and I jolt away. He looks at me, his eyes filled with longing.

A mother and her son walk over to the display. The chubby boy looks about twelve or so, and I’m not sure if he spotted us. He might have. And I suddenly feel kind of embarrassed. He flashes us a metal-filled, mischievous smile, and it’s confirmed—the kid caught us.

Weston looks over at me, and we both smile.

I pull him to me. “Take me to your car.”

He owns me…

W
ESTON
O
PENS
T
HE
R
EAR
D
OOR
F
OR
M
E
, and I slide in and take a seat.

We’re really doing this.

He sits next to me. And God…how I wish the console separating us would magically disappear. He buckles his seat belt, not taking his eyes off me. I mimic his actions, wishing we weren’t shackled by these safety devices. I really couldn’t give a hoot about my safety at the moment—all I really want to do is climb all over him.

“How far to the suite?” I ask.

“About ten minutes.” His eyes are dark and heavy. I honestly don’t know if I can bear that long.

He reaches for my hand and takes it in his. His fingers are so soft and warm. His eyes don’t leave me for a second.

“I didn’t even get to show you the rest,” he says, “the Amazon exhibit, the Oceanarium, the aquatic show. There’s so much to see.”

“We
could
go back?” I suggest with a sly smile, knowing very well what his reaction will be.

He bites his lip. “Not in a million years.” His gaze lingers on me. “Are you sure about this?”

I feel I might explode without his touch. “Yes.”

We look at each other for a beat, both knowing we’ll be together soon.

“We should go there again someday¸” I suggest.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

I think about our kids. Wouldn’t it be nice to go there together with our kids? They would absolutely love it. But I know that could never happen. It would be a very bad idea. I sigh a little at the thought.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks.

“No, thank you,” I answer. All I want is him, his hands on me, all over me.

Thinking about it is arousing me. And I wonder what he’s thinking.

“Ten minutes has never seemed like such an eternity,” he says, with a slight curve of his lip.

God…yes.

He looks at me but doesn’t say a word.

We sit in silence for a while. My heart is beating so fast, and I wonder if his is too. I want Edward to speed up, but I know he’s helpless against the traffic.

I’m throbbing with anticipation—the sensation is both delicious and painful. Weston’s intense stare is not helping. I close my eyes and imagine us together—his lips on mine, his skin on mine.

“I want this so much,” I say, feeling that desire in every part of my body—my heart, my stomach, my sex.

“Me too. You can’t imagine.”

I close my eyes and imagine us together.

I nervously cross and uncross my legs, trying to remember what underwear I’m wearing—I hadn’t planned for this. My mind wanders back to this morning. Yes…I’m wearing something decent—a black set covered in cream lace, one of the few luxurious underwear sets I own. Maybe my subconscious knew this would happen—knew what a little tramp I really am.

I smile and pull my hand away from his. “I think…” I whisper, reaching under my skirt, “we should get things started.” I’m surprised by my own boldness, but then again, I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on. Ever.

He looks at me with a strange mix of desire and curiosity. “What are you doing, Mirella?”

I don’t answer him. I stare at him as I slowly pull my black panties over my knees and over my sensible black shoes, not breaking eye contact.

I see the desire in his eyes. The way he looks at me…I can’t get enough of it.

“You wicked girl,” he whispers.

I scrunch my panties in a ball in my hand and lie back on the sleek leather seat, my lids heavy. He might as well pounce on me right now, because I’d let him.

He’s fidgeting again—that bouncing knee is going crazy. He bites his lip. “Give them to me.”

I smile. I wonder what he wants to do with them—he probably wants to get a better look. I hand them over, trying to be subtle. Edward doesn’t seem to be paying us much mind, but I’m not taking any chances.

Weston takes them. He holds them in his hands, traces his long fingers along the lace, and he studies them for the longest time. He seems so intense.

What is going through his mind?

Then he brings them up to his face and closes his eyes as he hides his nose in them.

I’m shocked.

His face is still buried in my underwear when he says, “I can’t wait to get you alone.”

His behavior is so unexpected. God…he’s turning me on.

I bite my lip and I look over at the driver. “Weston…”

He smiles and shoves my panties in his pocket. He looks outside the window, his body edgy and full of nervous energy.

He takes my hand again—I wonder if he can feel it tremble. “We’re almost there.”

I look out, and there it is—it’s so grand, a modern day castle nestled between the skyscrapers of Chicago.

We coast along the drive, and I notice it’s busy today—limos, town cars and luxury SUVs. We maneuver slowly between the vehicles.

Finally, Edward leaves us at the entrance. Weston opens the door and pulls me out of the car as fast as I’ve ever seen a man handle a woman.

He takes my hand and leads me with gusto. He knows exactly where he’s going.

I try to take in the grand entrance, but I barely have a chance.

Weston’s strides are so long, I can barely keep up with him, and find myself sprinting—the man is in a hurry.

And I know we’ve passed the point of no return.

I almost want to stop and take in the lobby, with its white walls and cascading silvers, a bursting snowflake light fixture lights up the space—it’s stunning—it seems like a mirage.

We reach the elevators, and Weston presses the button. There’s no one around. We wait, and though it’s probably just a few seconds, it seems like
forever
.

Finally the doors open, and it’s just us two. As soon as we’re inside, Weston quickly pushes a button and presses me again the mahogany wall. His lips are on mine. He slides his hand between my legs, and I just want to melt into him.

In no time at all, we hear the ding, and we’re at his floor. He takes my hand and leads me down the hall to his suite. He pulls a card out of his jacket and shoots me a mischievous smile as he slides the key card in.

We are finally doing this.

And I can’t think of anything else. Suddenly, the reasons we shouldn’t be doing this don’t matter. Not Gabe or the girls. Not Bridget, Lizzie, Ashton—they don’t exist anymore. It’s just us two.

He motions me to go in.

I barely have time to see where I am before his hands are on my waist. There’s a sense of urgency about him I like—he’s so uninhibited, out of control—it doesn’t seem like him.

He presses me against the wall. My briefcase falls to the floor. He reaches for my hair, and he manages to undo my bun, very slowly. The movements of his hands are languid, and his eyes are fixed on mine. There’s a moment of hesitation in me. I want him so much. But part of me is terrified. Once I fall, I’ll never be able to recover. I’ll only want him more. And I haven’t quite fallen completely…yet. Almost. There’s still time for me to stop this and go back to my life.

My simple, uncomplicated life.

My hair tumbles over my shoulder. I’m almost motionless. I’ve wanted to touch him so badly, but now I find myself still, anticipating what he will do to me.

I’ve never been so scared. “Weston…” I whisper.

He presses his finger to my lips—like he knows I’m teetering on the edge and if he lets me speak, we might never do this. He reaches for my glasses, gently pulls them off, and sets them on the console table. And still, his eyes don’t leave mine. I smile up at him and reach for his adorable hipster glasses. I mimic his actions. There’s something incredibly erotic about this moment. My mind wants me to stop and run, but I consciously disobey it.

He leans in to kiss me, and my breath catches.

But he doesn’t kiss me. He trails his nose over my cheek, down my neck, taunting me. He buries his face in my hair, his familiar woodsy smell filling my nostrils. My hand glides along the edge of his jaw, feeling his five o-clock shadow on the tips of my fingers.

He brings his hand to my cheek—the warmth of it sends shivers through me. I suck in a breath and work up the resolve I need to not go ahead with this.

“I’m…I’m not sure…” I whisper. I can barely find the words—I feel like such a tease. I’ve let things get too far. “I’m not sure we should do this.”

He seems to not have heard me at all. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear me. His lips sweep over mine, but are gone in a flash, down to my neck. The warmth of his mouth spreads a heat deep through my whole body, a pulsing pounds deep in my sex. I close my eyes. This is the moment…the moment I let go. I let go of all my worries, my reservations and decide to just enjoy him. My hands travel to his stomach, and I pull his shirt, sweeping my palm against his hot skin. I want his skin on mine.

He’s taking things slowly, I realize.

He likes to tease. And I like to be teased.

“Taking…your time,” I whisper, my breathing shallow.

“I want this to last forever,” he breathes.

And I think I’m going to die if he doesn’t speed things up soon—he’s killing me.

But I do hold a certain power—he’s a man, after all. I bring my lips to his neck and bite him gently—I’m suddenly feeling a little feisty. He laughs, and the sound vibrates into my ear. I pull his satchel over his head and throw it on the floor. He smiles, a slow, delicious grin. I reach for his belt and undo him as fast as I can. I manage to undo his pants button and fly with one hand—my other one refuses to leave his warm skin.

I hear his muffled moan, and I smile—I love arousing him.

I reach into his silky briefs and slowly wrap my fingers around him. He’s big and hard…and hot. I’ve never touched another man in this way before, and fear overtakes me again.

“Mirella…” he moans softly. My name is barely audible on his lips.

His lips sweep over mine, and I open my mouth for him. My whole body warms. This is the kiss I’ve been waiting for. Ever since the one in that little Italian hole-in-the-wall, I’ve been waiting for this kiss—uninhibited, passionate. I could do this all night. Just this…might be enough. If we just kissed, I might not jeopardize my marriage, I might not fall so hard. If we just kissed…

His tongue plays with mine softly, and I’m completely lost in him. The length of him is still pressed against my palm. His kiss becomes needy…wild, and I realize it’s inevitable—we can’t go back now—we want each other too badly.

I’ve never wanted a man more.

His finger traces a line up my thigh over my thigh-highs, and when he reaches my skin, he makes me shiver. I know when he gets there, he’ll find me wet…drenched for him. His finger slowly glides between my legs.

I ache for him to touch me.

He pulls away to look at me, his eyes fixed on mine with an expression I’ve never seen—a strange mix of desire, playfulness, and domination.

He owns me…and he knows it.

His fingers draw circles up to the edge of my thighs, sweeping my curls lightly, but not quite touching. I catch an impish expression on his face. I cannot stand this anymore…he’s driving me insane. He keeps playing with me, and he smiles, just slightly.

He’s enjoying this.

“You want this?” he asks, with a sly expression.

I throw my head back and nod a big yes, not finding the courage to utter the words.

His finger sweeps between my lips, but only for a fraction of a second. And he goes back to trailing circles. I can tell he plans to make me suffer.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have made me wait.” His words are playful. “My ego is fragile,” he whispers in my ear, his breath warming my neck. “You need to learn to know what you want.”

I moan out loud, stunned by the sound echoing off the walls. “I know what I want.”

“You need to
ask
for what you want.”

Damn, I wish I still had my panties on—maybe I wouldn’t be so out of control, so vulnerable, so pliable.

He wants me to ask. He wants me to beg.

“I want you,” I whisper. “I want you to touch me.”

His fingers trails back to my sex, and he toys with me a little, that obnoxious grin still plastered on his face.

And then he slides his finger inside.

Finally
…

I close my eyes and let myself enjoy the sensation. He’s so wonderful at this. I can feel myself responding to his touch, so strongly, so quickly. I don’t want to climax like this, but I let him tease me a little more, enjoying the building pressure.

And finally when I’m nearing the edge, I force myself to pull his hand away. I want to be with him. “Weston,” I whisper. “I want
you
.”

His kiss trails down my neck to my shoulder, and he grabs my rear. He pulls me up against him, and I wrap my legs around his hips.

He carries me across the room, and everything’s a blur—the living room, the dining room, the entire space. I feel light in his arms—my body fits perfectly against his—like it belongs there. He throws me on the bed and leans down on me, his body heavy. My legs are still in tangles around him, and I don’t want to let go.

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and looks at me, his gaze soft. I stare at his beautiful eyes, his sensual mouth. His touch is suddenly gentle as a feather as he undoes the pearl buttons on my blouse, not taking his eyes off me. We’re in slow motion—time seems to stand still. Finally, he leans in to kiss my collarbone. I pull his face to mine, and kiss him…completely caught up in him.

Desperately wanting him inside me, I tear my mouth away from his. “Do you have…” I ask him, my words breathless, my hands buried in his boxers, the warm smooth skin of his rear on my palms.

He doesn’t say a word and reaches into his pocket.

I realize I’ve never used a condom. I’ve always been on the pill, and I’ve only been with Gabe. I struggle and Weston helps me—he seems to sense my lack of experience. Finally, I gently slide the condom on, my heart pounding.

He buries his face into my neck, and touches me again, sliding his fingers in and out. I don’t want to come just yet. I don’t know how long I’m going to last. I want to make love.