Vengeful Love (21 page)

The hooded jumper only just preserves my modesty. Gregory watches me as I walk from the bathroom, towel drying my hair, to the kitchen island where he’s perched on a stool, now wearing cerulean jeans and a fitted black tee.

“You showered,” I say, acknowledging his wet hair and fresh scent.

He continues to watch me, his head moving with me as I walk toward him.

He clears his throat. “Jackson brought food. You should eat something.”

Standing from his stool, he lifts the lids from the various dishes he’s set out on the island.

“Salmon. Chicken. Pasta.”

I run my hand down the length of his spine and press myself against his side. “Kiss me.”

Gregory turns, leaning his back against the bench, and pulls my waist into his. He runs his fingers tenderly down the side of my face and exhales, long and slow, a slight shudder in his breath. Then his lips are on mine, his hands holding my cheeks. I let my mouth linger on his, enjoying the sensation. His tongue parts my lips and touches mine. I bite his lower lip and he groans, pulling my hips into his hard crotch. My legs part instinctively. Breathing softly onto his neck, I lift the bottom of his T-shirt, exposing his chest.

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers.

“I want to. I want to forget.”

“Are you sure?”

“Help me forget.”

I kiss his pecs and pull his tee roughly over his head. He grabs my bare arse cheeks then stops, leaning back with a smirk.

“You didn’t give me any knickers,” I tease.

He squeezes my arse again and I grind against him. His groan reverberates in my mouth, taking my last ounce of conservatism. I roughly undo the button of his jeans and he pulls the hooded jumper over my head, uncovering my naked body.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers.

I don’t let myself think of anything, not why we’ve been apart, not how I’ve felt in that time, and not how I truly feel about him. I yank him toward me and kiss him fiercely. With two hands, he lifts my arse and turns us so that I’m sitting on the island. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him into me, feeling his length beneath his jeans. He strokes his hand through my wet hair and I kiss him harder. I can’t stand it anymore. I want him. I need him.

He leans me back to lie on the island and slips off his jeans. I feel bereft in the brief seconds it takes for him to climb on top of me. Supporting his entire weight with one strong arm and tracing the contours of my body with his other, he places his lips on mine and pushes his hand between my legs, first cupping me then moving his fingers inside. I groan with desperation.

“God, Scarlett, what are you doing to me?”

My eyes widen.
Exactly what you’re doing to me, I hope.

My hips rise toward him and I dig my nails into his back. He resists me at first then in his own time, he lowers himself. He’s inside me. My breathing deepens with each thrust of his body, my muscles clamping down on his stiff shaft. My impulse to push back against him increases and I feel myself move slowly to a heady euphoria, a place I’ve longed for, where there’s no one and nothing else.

He drives and rotates simultaneously, stiffening further. He’s almost ready. Wrapping my legs tighter around his waist, I push my hips up until he’s deeper, so deep he pushes against the end of me. I’m lost in him. Out of my own head. All his.

Another gorgeous grind and I scream his name as we climax together.

He collapses onto my chest and it’s my turn to stroke his hair as his body trembles.

“I’m sorry,” he says when we eventually dress. “I didn’t mean to—”

I pull his chin to look at me and gently kiss him. “Now, salmon gets my vote,” I say.

“Salmon it is,” he says with a smile. “Wine?”

“Mmm, yes please, it’s been quite a day.”

We eat dinner on the sofa, probably the most informal we’ve been together, and it’s remarkably comfortable. Gregory dims the lights low enough that we can see the stars in the sky and occasional red flashes of airplane lights flying by, going in and out of Heathrow and London City airports. He pulls the glass coffee table closer and plants his bare feet on top of it. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side. I don’t want to ruin the moment, I could stay in this moment forever, but I have questions he needs to answer.

“I need to ask you some things.”

He sips his wine. “Okay.”

“Let’s start with the note. You said there was a note and that’s how you knew to come to the hospital.”

He takes a deep breath, bracing himself, then moves toward the window, his hands resting in his jeans’ pockets, his bare back tense.

“Do you remember the first time you stayed here?”

A half smile rises on my lips. He glances over his shoulder but his face is serious. My smile fades.

“That night, during the night, someone tried to tamper with the apartment alarm.” He glances back at me but I don’t react. “It’s not the first time someone has tried to...money and power can attract a lot of animosity. Jackson checked the stairwells, lifts, ground floor and there was nothing. The concierge hadn’t noticed anyone coming into or out of the building. Then he checked the basement.”

Gregory turns to face me shaking his head. “I honestly had no idea, Scarlett.” Turning back to face the outside world he continues, “There was pen or paint—I never saw it—on the window screen of the Mercedes. It said...it said ‘
Accidents Happen.’”

I swallow a lump in my throat. “He meant my father.”

“We didn’t know for sure. God, I should’ve realised that he knew who you were and got Jackson to step up security right after we closed the deal. He used to be in the forces, then the police, and has a lot of friends still there or ex-cops who do similar work to him. So, the next day he put two men on my mother. Williams wasn’t interested, said he could handle himself, although I think he’s wanted the opportunity to come face-to-face with my father since we were boys. And you, well I just... I didn’t plan to let you out of my sight anyway and with Jackson here, I didn’t think anyone else was necessary.”

“That’s what you were talking about when I interrupted that morning.”
And that’s why you wanted to take me away.

“Yes. Fuck, I could kick myself.”

I rise from the sofa and stand by his side, looking out at the bright city lights again. “What about the note?”

“He went a step further when we were at Chapel Down. He must have walked straight into the building. I don’t know why or how...part of me wonders if he wanted me to find out and stop him but...”

“The note, Gregory, tell me!” I snap.

“He posted a note under the door of the apartment. It said,
‘Tell your girlfriend to stay strong.’
”

My hand reflexively covers my mouth and I swallow bile.

“Jackson picked it up. He was on his way to see Sandy, that’s how they ended up at the hospital together,” he says, turning to look at me. “He tried to call me but I didn’t pick up his message until I was outside of the hospital.”

Anger stirs within me. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t think it would—”

“No. You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry, Scarlett. You’ll never know how sorry I am. I wish I could take it back. Even if it meant I had to live my life never having met you and never having felt...this. I wish I could go back to the boardroom and not be desp—”

“Shhh,” I say, placing one finger over his lips. “I’m not sorry that I met you.”

I don’t know at what stage my feelings changed, I don’t remember thinking it wasn’t his fault. But I believe it.

“Gregory, don’t you think it’s time the police were involved?”

He regards me with troubled browns. “Scarlett, the police can’t be involved.”

“Because you don’t think there’s any real evidence.”

“No, Scarlett, because when Jackson and I find him, we won’t be staying on the right side of the law.”

His statement should shock me. I’ve never been on the
wrong
side of the law. But the first thing I feel is vengeance. Pearson deserves to pay for what he did.

“That’s enough for tonight,” I whisper.

He nods and turns back to look out across the city.

I rest my hand into his. “Let’s go to bed.”

He looks at me from beneath a furrowed brow.

“It’s okay.”

I shuffle in the bed to nestle my head into his toned chest and he wraps a strong warm arm around my shoulders.

I close my eyes and drift into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I’ve been watching him for some time, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps. He’s perfect. His angular jaw and straight nose are a peculiar contrast against his soft, red lips. His dark features—brows, eyes and hair—are fiercely attractive. Everything about him embodies masculinity. I run a finger along the line of his collarbone and lean in to place my lips on his neck.

“You’re awake,” he mumbles.

“Yes.”

He opens one eye to look at me and that familiar, soul-melting half smile draws on his lips.

“Are you watching me?”

“Yes. You were drooling,” I lie.

He quickly wipes his face with the back of his hand, forcing me to giggle.

“I love that sound.”

His face turns playfully stern and he lunges toward me in the bed. I squeal when he pulls me onto his chest. He wraps his arms tightly around my back, forcing me to surrender.

“You know what I was thinking?” I ask as he tucks my loose hair behind my ear. “Why me?”

“You have no idea, do you?” He presses his mouth to mine briefly. “You’re a witch, Scarlett Heath, and I’m completely under your spell.”

Then I kiss him. Full, passionate, his sweetness filling my mouth as my tongue skims the inside of his lip. He rolls me onto my back and lies between my legs, the soft plump skin of his lips owning mine. I feel whole under the weight of his body. He nudges his hips forward lazily and he grows against me. I want to surrender to him. I want him to control my body totally, utterly, completely.

He teases my top lip with a stroke of his tongue and circles his hips against my stomach.

“You’re not the only one under a spell, Mr. Ryans.”
I am one hundred percent besotted with this man.

He drops a hand to my cleft and slides his fingers inside my entrance, then withdraws and wraps his lips around his damp finger. “You taste fucking amazing.”

And he is such a bloody turn on.

I raise my pelvis impatiently. His irises darken and without warning, he thrusts his length into me. But the look in his eyes tells me he’s not going to fuck me, he’s going to make love to me and I can’t wait.

He slides out unhurriedly, teasing my charged flesh, then moves back in with a deliciously smooth turn of his hips. My eyes follow the tension of his muscles as he takes me slowly, purposefully. I drink him in, my eyes greedy to see every part of his perfect torso.

“I missed you,” I confess, my words absorbed by his mouth.

He continues his controlled movements, pushing himself deeper each time. My mind is moving to the blissful world where only my Sexy Bazillionaire CEO and I exist, welded together, an extension of each other.

“Open your eyes, baby, I want to see you.”

I do as I’m told and I’m rewarded with brown pools of perfection. He pushes forward again, taking me higher.

“How does it feel, baby?”

“Like I never want it to end.”

A low, rumbling growl fills my mouth. He brings his forearms closer to my head, his fingers stroking my hair. There’s no part of his body not touching mine. My soul is completely bared to him, my heart ready to risk being broken so I can feel this man who still has so many sides I just don’t know.

He pushes forward again and circles his hips deep inside me. The pressure on my wall sending me delirious. “Gregory, I’m there.”

“Let go for me, baby.”

I do. My orgasm is wild and frantic, unlike the motion that caused it, and as it rips through me, I have to fight not to cry, completely overcome.

“Jesus!” Gregory surges forward on one hard thrust and releases his warm pleasure into me, filling me, wrapping his lips around mine, letting me swallow the sound of his pleasure.

* * *

Showered and dressed in yesterday’s clothes, I smile at the sight of Gregory sitting at the breakfast bar, remembering the events of last night.

“Have I told you how unbelievably sexy you look in a suit?” he says, watching me walk down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Hmm, if you plan on keeping me around today I’m going to need to pick up some clothes from home.”

“If that’s what I have to do to keep you, deal.”

I smile. “Why don’t I make us some pancakes? Sandy makes the best pancakes. I can’t promise to make pancakes like hers but how hard can it be?”

“Erm, sure?”

A door bangs somewhere in the apartment, or duplex, or house, or whatever Gregory’s oversized city pad is most appropriately called.

“Is Jackson here?”

“Most likely. He has an almost self-contained flat up there,” he says, pointing generally in the direction of upstairs and east. “I haven’t really shown you around properly have I?”

“Always been in a rush to do other things,” I say, grinning at my wit as I crack eggs into a glass bowl.

Gregory’s amusement decorates his voice. “Well, if I’d shown you around, you’d realise Jackson doesn’t need to come through the lounge. There’s a staircase to the side of the front door that goes straight up to his room. A sort of guest wing. It’s like he doesn’t live here most times which is good, we spend a lot of time together as it is and I like the space. I’m not always the most sociable of people.”

“You don’t say,” I scoff.

He scowls. “Plus, he knows you’re here.”

I smirk over my shoulder. “And all that implies.”

He winks. I could orgasm on the spot.

I fumble in the fridge to distract myself from desire. “Why did you ever employ Jackson?”

“Well, I needed a driver. Getting from A to B can be tricky in the city sometimes so it’s convenient and it means I can work, you know, take calls, answer emails if I need to, whilst we’re en route. Then there were a few other things, incidents. People start to hear about...well, money, and having money can piss a lot of people off.”

I glance back to see him blushing.

“So he’s a bodyguard.”

“I don’t really see it like that. He’s a driver, a personal trainer and to an extent, yes, something
like
a bodyguard. He says he watches my blindside.”

I trickle olive oil into a frying pan and turn on the induction hob. The oil heats almost instantly and sizzles when I pour in the wet pancake mix.

“I’m not sure how these are going to fit with your personal training regime.”

“I can make an exception.”

A burst of female laughter comes from the adjoining door on the mezzanine level. I turn my head toward the sound.

“I take it Jackson isn’t alone?”

“Doesn’t sound like it?”

“Why do you look so confused?”

“I’ve just never known Jackson have anyone here.”

“And he’s worked for you how long?”

“Four years.”

“Wow, four years. I’d bet he didn’t last very long.” I giggle. “Does it bother you that he has someone here?”

Gregory scratches his nose then glances toward the staircase. “I’m not sure.”

I slide the first two pancakes on to a plate and pour another two circles in the frying pan. As I search the cupboards for syrup, Gregory’s Blackberry rings.

“I’ll be back for the masterpiece, I need to take this,” he says, holding up his phone.

“Ryans,” he snaps, bounding up the stairs to his home office.

The female laughter comes again as I happily continue creating my pancakes.

“Would it offend you if I said I’m surprised they smell good?” Gregory asks on return.

I grin like a child, genuinely thrilled with my efforts.

“Work?” I ask, taking a seat on a stool next to him and drizzling syrup on my Michelin pancakes.

“These are amazing. And yes, I might have some work coming your way actually, a new deal.”

“Oh, Gregory, I—”

“Sorry, that was thoughtless. You don’t have to do it. I just didn’t think. For the record, it’s completely above board, usual business. I wouldn’t have asked you to do anything that—”

“It’s not that. I know you wouldn’t get me messed up in anything like that again.” I stab my pancake with my fork. “I know that because I have far too much control over your balls these days.”

We both laugh although Gregory’s is nervous. “I’m the one with the control, angel, don’t forget that.

As arrogant as they are, his words completely turn me on.

“I was just going to say that I need to have a think about conflicts of interest and seek out some compliance issues within the firm, that’s all.”

He sighs. Relieved, I think.

“Which reminds me, I want to know about Jack. And don’t fob me off, Ryans.”

The door to the staircase opens and Jackson comes into the kitchen, saving Gregory from a discussion he seemingly does
not
want to have.

“Ah, morning.”

“Morning,” Gregory says over his cup of coffee.

Jackson scratches his chin then puts one hand in the pocket of his eighties-style straight leg jeans.

“Jackson.” I smirk and nod.

“Ah, I just want to check that it’s still okay for me to take off today. I don’t want to leave you in the lurch and I’ll have my phone all day so if you need me, anything at all and if it’s anything about, you know...”

“It’s okay. She knows it all,” Gregory says. “Yes, take off. I’m going to take Scarlett out to the farm. We’ll be fine there.”

I’ve got no idea what “the farm” is but Jackson seems content with the response. He nods then runs back up the stairs. “Good to go,” I hear him say.

I get back to my pancake, folding a large piece of bacon onto my fork then dunking the whole thing in syrup. I’d rather eat pigs than visit them on a farm. Placing the forkful of food into my mouth, I’m distracted by movement on the stairs. I try not to look but intrigue gets the better of me.

Gregory coughs into his coffee cup, spluttering some remains of his mouthful back into the cup. Swallowing my pancake with a gulp, I jump off the barstool.

“Sandy!”

Sandy freezes in the middle of the open lounge. Jackson rests a hand on her back to encourage her forward.

“Sandy!”

Gregory walks to Sandy and says good morning, shaking her hand. He offers them both breakfast and coffee. Sandy smiles and responds to Gregory but watches me, motionless.

“Sandy!”

She lets out a short nervous giggle then, shrugging her shoulders, she sings, “Morning!”

Jackson and Gregory let out similar short awkward chuckles.

“Sandy!”

I hadn’t realised my jaw was hanging loose between each round of “Sandy!” but Gregory puts a finger onto my bottom jaw and pushes it closed.

“Well, we’ll let you get on,” Sandy says, nudging Jackson toward the entrance door.

“Sand—”

“Shhh,” Gregory whispers as he lifts my hand to cover my mouth.