The Singles (21 page)

“If you asked me, then I’d say yes!” I half-shouted. “Yes, I want you. Are you happy?”

“Good,” he growled. “That was all I needed to hear.”

––––––––

S
etting me on my feet, Oliver’s palms flared over my flat stomach. I shivered—a combination of his touch and the cold metal of the refrigerator against my calves—and he skimmed his teeth over his bottom lip. Stopping at the waist of my skirt, he tugged my white pintuck top free.

“I don’t do jealous.” With each word, he undid a button, exposing another inch or two of my skin. “But when I opened that link and saw that picture of you, I wanted to take the first goddamn flight out of New York.”

“Why didn’t you just call and ask me?”

He freed the last button and stroked his thumb over the hollow of my throat, his breath catching when he traced between the valley of my breasts. Fingering the pretty white bow between the cups of my Agent Provocateur bra, he shook his head. “Because I needed to see your face when I asked you. I wanted to make sure.”

“That I wanted you?”

“That you weren’t lying to me.”

Suddenly ashamed, my chest caved in beneath his touch. Fuck. Why—
why
—did he have to say it like that? Here I was, the walking, talking epitome of a lie, letting him believe I was someone else. That I was nothing but a chance encounter. Choking on the guilt that bubbled in my throat, I laughed.

“I’m sorry about that picture.”

“Don’t.” He lowered his mouth to mine, and I closed my eyes as his warm breath fanned over my tender skin. “Don’t even mention it. Not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to fuck you in every way imaginable. We won’t need words.” Cupping my chin, he pinched my lips, his stare meaningful as I released a muted moan. “That’s what I want to hear.”

Shoving all thoughts of lies and deceit from my head, I reached for his zipper, but he let go of my mouth and grabbed my wrist. My brows arched together over my brown eyes. “Changed your mind?”

He pinned my arms over my head, causing me to knock a few magnets off the refrigerator. His expression was pained, and I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me, unable to breathe except for with the shallowest of breaths. From the way he was looking at me, I felt like at any moment he’d leave me a mess like last week. “I didn’t fly all this way just to leave alone with a hard cock.” Sighing, he looked at me through hooded lids. “As much as I’d like to bend you over where we stand, I promised you dinner.”

“Funny.” I arched my back, the soft cotton of his tee shirt tickling my bare stomach and chest. “I swear I remember you saying you were having me for dinner.”

Nipping my lower lip, he loosened his grip on my wrists and growled his agreement. “There’s nothing that’ll keep my tongue from being inside you tonight.” Letting his words ripple though me until my pussy clenched with desire, I crossed my arms over my chest, pushing each side of my blouse together. I started to speak, but he shook his head. “Go get dressed.”

I watched him carefully, feeling an ache consume my body as he backed away from me and rested against the counter across from the refrigerator. “Where are we going?”

When he rubbed his hand through his light brown hair, all I could picture was seeing those tousled locks between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together. “If you get dressed, then you’d see.”

“What should I wear?” Or not wear.

He spread his muscular arms, gesturing to his own attire of jeans and a tee shirt. “Anything.”

Realizing I could probe for details until I was blue in the face, I started out the kitchen, struggling to breathe when I felt the front of his body brush against mine after I grabbed my purse from the dining room. “Give me half an hour, I’m just going to shower and—”

“You’re just going to get wet when we get there, so there’s no point,” he drawled, and I froze in the entrance to the hallway that led to my bedroom. He squeezed my ass, and I looked up to meet apologetic blue eyes. “It really was a nice skirt,” he lamented, dragging the material up until he was touching the part he had ripped. “I’ll replace it.”

Sagging forward against the wall, I studied his movements carefully while he walked away from me. “It was only a skirt,” I whispered, but he shook his head and eased onto my couch.

His focus never wavered from my face. “There’s no such thing as
only
when it comes to you, Lizzie.”

My legs trembling, those words teased me as I hurried to my bedroom. I tossed my purse on my bed and raked my hands through my hair. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I studied my flushed, heart-shaped face and the brown, amber-flecked eyes that glistened with unsuppressed lust. Realizing that when I left with Oliver, that desire would finally be sated, I wrapped my arms around myself.

My phone vibrated inside my Prada bag, and I dragged my focus away from the mirror. Walking into my closet, I looked at the new text from Pen.

Should I come home? Or should I, you know, go somewhere else?

Rifling through my clothes, I replied as quickly as I could with my left hand.

You’re safe. He’s taking me to dinner, so I won’t be here when you get back. Pen ... I meant what I said about talking.

While I awaited her response, I set my phone on a shelf and plucked a black, lace-trimmed shift dress from the rack. Holding it up to my body, I decided it was perfect—not formal, not too casual, and I wouldn’t freeze to death in the chilly November night. As I took the dress, the lace-up Alice + Olivia booties Pen had given me for my birthday, and my phone back into my bedroom, I received a new message.

You’re right. We do need to talk. But you NEED tonight.

Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I threw the phone to the center of my bed. For a split second, my attention settled on the locked nightstand a few feet away. It was full of every ounce of information I’d gathered since I received that phone call more than five months ago, and I felt a pang of guilt as I looked at my bedroom door. Right outside of it was a man who was attracted to a façade.

A man I couldn’t resist wanting.

Tonight, I would have him. I would savor this single night he’d been promising me for weeks, and then—
then
I’d think about the contents of that bottom drawer.

Pressing my lips together, I kept my eyes straight ahead as I rushed into my bathroom to brush my teeth.

*

“I
don’t know why, but I expected it to be ... bigger,” I told Oliver half an hour later. Swallowing back my anticipation, I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. “I guess that’s bitchy of me to say, huh?”

A sexy grin spreading across his face, he took my hands in his and pulled me out the Viper. “What were you expecting?”

Teasingly, I worked my lip between my teeth and stared up at the single-story Spanish hacienda-style home. When he’d sped the Viper onto the highway toward Malibu, I figured he was taking me to a seaside restaurant, but then to my surprise, he’d driven into a gated community close to Surfrider Beach. “A place like your mother’s, maybe?”

He winced. Spreading his fingers along the curve of my hip, he urged me toward the house, but then he paused in front of the mesquite wood door, stopping me between the two stone pillars. “No talking about Margaret.”

“I—” I began, but he held up a large hand.

“If you talk about her, you’ll leave with a red ass.”

“Mar-ga-ret.”

Pulling on the doorknob, his blue eyes flashed a warning. “I don’t forget anything, Lizzie,” he promised. He opened the door and gestured me inside, and I shivered when I stepped on the terra-cotta tile in the hallway and the cool blast from the air conditioner kissed my skin. “We’re going out back,” he said, leading me through the house, his hand resuming its place on my body.

His decorator had outfitted the place in rich, bold colors—deep oranges, browns, and reds, and rustic, handcrafted furniture that gave it a manly, comfortable vibe. The entire backside of the home featured floor-to-ceiling windows, and I pressed my palm to one and stared out at the grotto-shaped pool. “If I lived here, I’d never leave.”

“I bought it for the privacy.” He walked outside, moving through the pool and Jacuzzi area, and I followed close behind. “It’s almost three acres, so I don’t have to deal with the bullshit.”

“It must be tough.” As I walked up a few steps that led to what I guessed was a dining area, I spotted a small basketball court to my left, and a little smile curled my lips. “I mean, to have your picture in the lifestyle-and-entertainment section on a weekly basis.”

“I knew it would happen when I made the transition from drunken partier to businessman, but eventually they’ll find someone new to take pictures of. At least they don’t go out their way to follow me.” Stepping aside, he motioned to the outdoor dining area that overlooked the pool and basketball court. Between a stone island and a blazing fireplace sat a four-person table. It was already set, with champagne in a stainless bucket in the center and two silver domes covering the dinner plates on either side. “My housekeeper set this up not even five minutes before we got here, so it’s still hot.”

“Should I give you my panties now, or wait until after dinner?” I teased, but I was incredulous at how much effort he’d put into all this.

He held out the chair closest to the fireplace for me, and I sat down. “If you touch your panties,” he said, grabbing a couple beers from the fridge beneath the island, “you’ll be eating while my cock is inside of you.” Then, like he hadn’t just taken away my ability to properly form thoughts, he opened both beers and removed the lid from his plate, revealing a simple meal of mussel linguine.

Following suit, I shook the silverware out of my napkin and bit the inside of my cheek. “Do you threaten all your dates like this?”

“Never. Even I have reservations about exposing my dick in restaurants.” At my raised eyebrow, he explained, “I don’t bring women here.”

My hand froze around my fork midway to my mouth. “And why am
I
here?”

“Because I can’t get you out of my head.” Taking a bite of pasta, he leaned back in his chair and watched my expression closely from across the table. When I swallowed hard, he rubbed his thumb over the part of his nose that had been broken in the past and then pointed to my plate. “You should eat.”

I closed my mouth around a forkful of pasta, shutting my eyes as the flavor assaulted my taste buds. I’d been so busy at work today, I hadn’t eaten lunch, and this was divine. The moment I finished chewing though, I heard myself ask, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why can’t you get me out of your head? Why bring
me
here? Why do you want me?”

Continuing to eat, he tilted his head like he was strongly considering my question. Was he going to answer me? I scooped another bite of pasta into my mouth, and then a few more, my boot tapping impatiently against the stone patio.

“The first time I laid eyes on you, Lizzie, I wanted you. Do I need a reason, other than when we touched, I felt more in those five seconds than I ever felt in my entire goddamn life?”

I remembered the electricity between us, the way his fingers had tightened as our skin parted, and my own hand tingled. When he saw that I was holding it close to my chest, he nodded. “
That’s
why I want you. Now, eat your food, beautiful.”

*

I
’d barely lowered my silverware to my empty plate when Oliver scooted his seat from the table. “Thank you for dinner,” I said. “It was amazing.” Following his movements with my eyes, I watched as he stood and grabbed the untouched bottle of champagne and the thin glass flutes by our plates.

“Like I told you a few weeks ago, I’m a man of my word.” His deep voice held an edge of promise, and a shiver of heat rushed through my veins. “Time for dessert, beautiful.”  He motioned his head for me to follow him, then started toward the pool.

Moving slowly so as not to trip on the stone steps and make a complete ass of myself, I trailed a few steps behind him, not pausing until we stood face-to-face beneath the waterside pergola.

Which doubled as a bedroom.

Somehow, when he brought me through here less than an hour ago, I hadn’t noticed the teak hanging bed centered between the pillars. How the hell I had missed it was beyond my comprehension, but it looked remarkably comfortable—a plush mattress covered in honey-colored Egyptian cotton sheets and a variety of bolster and throw pillows that complimented the overall vibe of his hacienda-style house.  “And you say you don’t bring other women here?” I thought I whispered under my breath.

Obviously he heard me, because a moment later, one of his hands rested against my ass and the other on my chin as he forced me to look up at him. “I fuck in hotels.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” I gently chided, ignoring the blatant hypocrisy of my words.

He bent his face closer, touching his forehead to mine and catching my breath. The tip of his nose brushed roughly against my own, and he held my face possessively. “I’m not lying. I want you, Lizzie, and I’m about to have you. I’m not going to stand out here arguing about who I’ve had before you because it’s a waste of energy for both our mouths.” Exhaling harshly, he tongued my upper lip, tilting my world on its axis one deliberate lick at a time.

“Tonight, you’re mine. That’s the only thing that matters,” he said before breaking contact with me to light each of the two outdoor lamps on opposite ends of the trellis.

With my heart jammed somewhere between my throat and ribcage, I was silent as he introduced light other than the moon’s glow to the area. Walking around the bed slowly, I brushed my fingers along the thick manila ropes securing the mattress in place. “Damn,” I whispered softly, only to be startled a second later by the sharp
pop
of the champagne bottle opening.

Setting the bottle beside the glasses on the compact bedside stand, a slow grin crept across his face. “Close your mouth, beautiful.”

Patience was definitely not a virtue of Oliver Manning’s because a moment later, he closed it for me, getting rid of the space between our bodies to slant his lips hungrily over mine. Plunging his tongue inside, he tasted me like I was his last meal, licking and sucking. “You smell so sweet,” he murmured between hot, wet kisses. “That perfume, Lizzie.”