There's Something About Her, A Manhattan Love Story (13 page)

I love him.
I love how the skin of his chest feels against my breasts—like now. I love the start of his kiss, how his lips gather mine between them—like now. I love the release of his gasp when he slips his penis inside me—like now.
 

“Maggie, I love you,” he whispers. “No matter what happens, I need you to remember that.”
 

There’s something different in the way he makes love to me. His thrusts are deep and tinged with need and patience. I feel as if he’s injecting me with his sweetest emotions. I find myself wanting to weep for the mere fact that we are unable to sink into each other’s skin.
 

However, I have not lost my head. I won’t say it back. I respond by matching his vigor. Our kisses become whimpers of passion. I feel every inch of Vincent’s rigid penis rubbing my moistened walls. The day hasn’t even begun, and we’re making the sweetest love of my life. We have twenty-four more hours to pretend that this could go on forever. When he comes, he gathers me close and my body trembles with his.
 

“That was…” I’m lost for a description.
 

“That was remarkable,” Vincent says.

We’re still attached by our slippery skin.
 

“So I think I should shower and brush my teeth,” I say. It’s been two days since I’ve showered.

“No. Don’t wash me off of you yet.”

I grimace. “Are you serious?”

“What?” He lifts up to gaze at my naked body. “You taste and smell like heaven. Don’t wash me away.” He studies my expression. “Why are you grinning?”
 

“Because you’re so good with words. Artful.”

“Do you doubt my sincerity?”

“Not even a little bit.”

His lips wrap mine up in another embrace.
 

“I love this!”

“Me too,” he whispers between kisses.
 

Shit. I said that out loud.

We stay naked and traipse down to the kitchen.
 

“You bought pizza,” I sing with glee.
 

Yesterday, we ate crepes and stuffed apple and pork dumplings. Today I want the pizza with pepperoni and sausage on top. As we wait for the pizza to heat up, Vincent tells me which lift to the slopes is his favorite and why. I love the way his eyes dance as he talks. He sure does love to ski.
 

“One day I’ll take you to Switzerland. I’ll take you to all the best chateaus. You ever ski?”

“Once or twice.”

“You don’t like it?”

I shrug. “It’s okay. I prefer a beach and warm sun. But I would go skiing with you. I’m not good at it.”

The timer on the oven buzzes. Vincent snorts and trots over to take out the pizza. “If you’re with me, I don’t think I’d get much skiing done.”
 

Vincent gives me the full frontal. Erect or not, his penis is tantalizing. I look away, embarrassed by my lust.
 

“What?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“It isn’t ‘nothing.’ You’ve turned red.”

I touch my neck. “I have?”

Vincent abandons the pizza and walks over to touch the other side of my neck. “I want to do something to you, anything. Just tell me what you want.” His voice is thick with desire.

I expel the breath I’ve been holding. “I want to do something to you.”

Vincent smirks. “Oh that…”

“That.”

His hand slides down my neck. It squeezes my nipple on the way to my pussy. “You want me.”

I slide a hand down his chest, past his torso, and wrap it around his shaft. It’s so damn hard. “You want me.”

“In one million ways, baby.”
 

Damn, that sounded sexy. I prematurely swallow the extra moisture in my mouth.
 

“I’ll make it easy for you.”
 

Vincent hops up on top of the breakfast bar. His dick sticks straight up, waiting for me to indulge. I close my eyes as I collapse my mouth around it. It smells like sex and tastes like it too. I whirl my tongue around the tip and clasp my lips around the shaft from bottom to top. I want him to enjoy it and come so hard that he fills my mouth.
 

He grabs my hair. “Shit.”
 

I’m working him better than ever, but he takes me by the chin to stop me.

“What? You don’t like it?” I whisper, baffled.
 

“I love it.” He hops down.

“Then what is it?” I ask.

He hesitates. “You really want to know?”

“Yes, I do.”

Vincent cups my ass. “I don’t want to unload in your mouth. I want to unload”—he sinks a finger into my pussy—“inside of you.”

He lifts me off the ceramic tile floor. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he stuffs me with his hard-on. He carries me to the cabinet.
 

“Could you reach up and get the plates?” he asks, grinning.

I twist my torso to open the cabinet. Vincent takes the opportunity to suck on one of my nipples and then the other.
 

“You’re making this hard,” I complain.

“You’ve already made this hard,” he jokes and thrusts into me twice.
 

We laugh all the way through plating the pizza. I’m still sitting on his knob as we sit and scarf it down.
 

“Look at you, a big-time corporate boss, sitting here with your subordinate on your dick, eating pizza.”

“Don’t say that. You’re turning me on, and I’m doing all I can not to come.”

“Oh really?” I purr. I ride him like the sex goddess I am not.

He squeezes his eyes shut. “Not now.”

I sigh because his dick feels so good inside of me. In a few seconds, I’m lying between the plates on the table, and Vincent is pounding the hell out of me.
 

“Come, baby,” he grunts. “I won’t until you do.”
 

To help me out, he licks his thumb and then rolls it around my clit. I have to close my eyes to fully feel what he’s doing. I sound like the audio from a porn movie. When I climax, he can feel it and hear it. That’s when Vincent lets loose.

Vincent and I take our naked bodies back to bed. We sleep, talk, and make love until nightfall. I’ve had a lot of Vincent Adams, but it’s still not enough. I think I want him forever.
 

It’s three a.m. Vincent has made me come more times than I can count. I’m wiped. He wraps his body around mine, and we fall asleep.

Chapter 10

The Sobering Truth

I blink as I slowly become conscious. The blankets are tucked around me. Once again, I’m alone. Vincent must be an early riser. I drape my legs over the side of the bed. Every part of my body is sore. There’s a lot of muscle fatigue and gymnastics involved in ceaseless sex. I’m in desperate need of a shower; it’s been three days since my last one. The warm, fluffy sheets still call my name, but I need to move forward.
 

I leap to my feet and trot to the dresser to check my cell phone. Monroe knows where I am, but it just dawned on me that Charlie might be worried since he’s at my apartment. Charlie must have alerted Jack because he’s left three messages.
 

“Where are you, Mags? Something’s happened. Call me.” That’s the first message, the calmest one.
 

“Charlie’s at the apartment. You’re not there. Call me, Mags. Put me at ease.”

“Got a hold of Monroe.” Pause. “Are you alone with Vincent Adams? Did you turn your cell phone off? Call me as soon as you get this.”
 

I recognize that tone. He’s miffed. I call him back right away.
 

Jack answers on the first buzz. “Mags, are you with Vince?”

“Yeah,” I sing in the sweetest, most innocent voice I can muster.

“Why did you power off your phone?”

“I was asleep.”

“I called you yesterday.”
 

My response is a hard sigh. Sometimes Jack can be overbearing.
 

“Mags, he’s engaged. I had a feeling he was into you, but I took a chance.”

All of a sudden, I feel as if I’ve just been smacked in the heart with a bulldozer. I try to keep myself from falling apart because Jack can detect the smallest change in my voice.
 

“Oh, that’s nice,” I say. “We didn’t do anything. You don’t have to worry. I love my job. I want to keep it. We would’ve flown back three days ago, but we had to wait out the snowstorm.”
 

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
 

Jack is silent. “Okay.”
 

I sigh in relief. He bought it.
 

“Daisy and I are in New York.”

“So soon?”

“She’s in the hospital,” he says.

“Oh shit! What happened?”

“She fainted, and she had some cramping. We thought something happened to the baby.”

“You thought?”

“The doctor said she needs to relax more. Her high stress levels are stressing out the baby.”

“Jeez. You’re on your honeymoon. How stressful can that be?”

“She’s been working. We’ve both been working. But she’s stable now.”

I heave a deep sigh of relief. “Okay, well, the storm has passed, so we’re returning today.” The pain of Vincent’s betrayal returns with a vengeance. “I’ll cab-it to the hospital as soon as I land.”

“No, I don’t want you out that late. Go home and get some sleep. You can come in the morning.”

“Right.” I still intend to go to the hospital when I land.

Jack tells me which hospital they’re at before we disconnect. I sit for a while with my eyes closed, battling back tears. My heart hurts. Of course Vincent lied to me, but the truth is sobering. I’m a big girl. I made a decision knowing he wasn’t available, and it’s time to suffer the consequences.
 

“This is about your job,” I whisper. “Your future. Hey, Vincent’s not the last man on Earth.”

There, the pep talk worked. I spring to my feet, take a shower, brush my teeth, and put on my dress. My panties need to be rewashed. I stuff them into my bag. I’m not the kind of girl who wears sex-stained underwear.
 

I creep into the hallway and listen for Vincent. It’s so quiet that I wonder if he’s home. The silence reminds me that we’ve reached the end of our affair. I put on a stone face and walk down the hallway.
 

“Vincent?” I call.
 

I take the stairs. He’d said we’re tethered by a strange energy, and it’s odd, but that mysterious force leads me past the living room and in the opposite direction of the kitchen. I pass the glass room where we first made love and descend a set of short steps at the end of the hallway.
 

“I know!” Vincent shouts.
 

“Don’t fuck this up, Vince,” a man on the speakerphone says.

Vince blows out a deflated sigh. He catches sight of me. “Maggie’s here. I have to go.” The man on the other side starts to say something, but Vincent ends the call. “Catch-up meeting with Robert,” he explains.
 

I clear my throat and try to suppress how sad I feel that my presence prompted him to hang up. “What time does our flight leave? I just spoke to Jack.”

Vincent stands. He looks scrumptious in the bright white T-shirt and blue drawstring pajamas. “You spoke to Jack?”
 

“Daisy’s in the hospital. She had some complications, so I need to get back.”

“I understand.” He cracks a tiny, lopsided smile. “You’re dressed.”

I snort bitterly. “And you’re engaged.”

He sighs as if my new knowledge has knocked the wind out of him. He holds his arms up, beckoning me to come to him. “Come here.”

I shake my head. “No. Look, you wanted to have sex with me. I wanted to have sex with you. We’ve gotten it out of our systems.”

“You’re not out of my system. Am I out of yours?”

I glare at him. His fiancée is a barricade I can’t demolish. I picture the woman I saw at the office in Daisy’s white wedding dress and Vincent standing beside her in Jack’s suit. “What’s her name?”

He pauses to read my expression. “Gabrielle.”

I gaze out the window at another spectacular view of the mountains. People are skiing the slopes. “I wonder why Linda didn’t mention that you were engaged.”

“Your assistant?”
 

“Yes.”

“Not very many people know we’re engaged.”

My face molds into a frown. “Why not?”
 

He walks toward me, and my stomach turns flips. His arms have become the most solid place in the world for me, yet I have to halt him when he reaches for me.
 

“Why not?” I insist.

“It’s complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about it?”

“It’s business, Maggie. That’s all.”

 
“I don’t understand.” A knot of sadness is lodged in my heart and hurts so much.

“Gabrielle’s father is our business partner. Maggie, please…”
 

He holds me before I can object. I give in to my need and rest the side of my face on his chest. Vincent kisses the top of my head.
 

I look up to gaze into his eyes. “Could we please leave? I really need to get back. I’m worried about Daisy.”
 

“I’m worried about us.”

“As long as you’re engaged, there is no ‘us.’” I take a backward step out of his grasp.
 

“Don’t do this,” he says, still embracing the space I left behind.

“When do we leave?” My lips are clenched. I want to rip his eyes out and kiss him at the same time.

His eyes caress my body and then my face. He gives a pained sigh. “In an hour and a half.”

I nod stiffly and scurry out of the office before he thinks to catch me, throw me on the floor, and make love to me. If he did that, then I wouldn’t be able to stop him or myself.

An hour later, we’re in the car on the way to the airport. Vincent is dressed in a pair of black slacks that fit him like a perfect glove and a black V-neck sweater. He looks yummy, and I want to make out with him. Our arms and legs are touching, but we haven’t spoken a word to each other since I thanked him for opening the car door for me.