the beautiful ornate ceiling. She felt his lips move down her body. They lingered at her neck, at her breast, stopping to lick and suckle her nipple. Claire’s back arched, and she pressed her breasts toward Tony. He continued to touch her warm body, taste her skin, and inhale her scent.
She hadn’t realized it before that moment, but after experiencing orgasms routinely the void of the past two months had left her wanting. Her body was now alive, on full alert, and every nerve was electrified. He fondled her breasts and gently twisted her nipples. She moaned in ecstasy. He stopped. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. Do you want me to stop?”
She pleaded, “No, god no. Please don’t stop.”
He allowed his lips to move from her breasts to her flat stomach and over her protruding hipbones. He tenderly spread her legs and kissed her inner thighs. She feared she would explode before he ever reached his destination. Next his tongue affectionately awakened her desires. He satisfied every need she’d ever had and ones she’d forgotten. He moved slowly and deliberately, sensual and romantic, compassionate and loving.
He had been patient and remorseful. Now it was his turn to experience a favorable consequence. His pleasure came by pleasing her. His actions took everything away. And now his actions brought everything back and more.
Nothing is more common on earth than to deceive and be deceived.
—Johann G. Seume
Chapter 22
The ashtray overflowed with cigarette butts. Samuel Rawls and Jared Clawson sat, while Nathaniel Rawls paced. The large polished conference table was barely visible beneath the magnitude of papers. The players no longer worked from the New Jersey office above the textile factory as they did five years ago. Instead, the view from the conference table or large mahogany desk is now that of Cedar Street, in the heart of Manhattan’s financial district.
“Rawls stock is up another five-eighths after heavy trading. The rumors that circulated today about the quarterly report helped with that increase,” Clawson said as he leaned back in the comfortable leather chair, adjusting his suit jacket.
Nathaniel’s track around the large office included peering out toward the NYSE and circling the desk to see the large computer screens that relayed the most up-to-date stock information. Exhaling a large gray cloud, he asked the question that sat heavily on his and Samuel’s minds, “But what happens when it is discovered that the rumors and reality are different?”
“Shit hits the fan.” Clawson smiled. “So we don’t tell anyone.”
Samuel rubbed his throbbing head. “What do you mean we don’t tell anyone? The quarterly earnings report will be released tomorrow. The investors will find out that our capital is down. That last string of investments wiped out millions.”
“Numbers are funny things. I have a copy here of an alternative report. The numbers are all legitimate, but the information is written with a more positive slant.” Clawson distributed the report. The room filled with uncomfortable silence as the two Rawls men read the new report.
“Where is the original report?” Nathaniel bellowed. Immediately, Clawson pulled the requested pages from the cluttered table. The elder Rawls took the two reports and sat heavily at his desk. Page by page he compared the figures. Samuel and Clawson watched as the tips of Nathaniel’s lips moved from south to north. The telephone rang, breaking the silence. Instead of answering, Nathaniel hit the button on the intercom. “Connie, I said no calls!”
The voice from the box spoke apologetically, “I’m sorry, Mr. Rawls. It’s your personal line. I’ll take care of it.” Immediately, the ringing stopped.
The sight of Nathaniel’s smile had differing effects. Clawson resumed his leaned back position and lit another cigarette. Samuel leaned forward and held his head in his hands. Confronting his father in front of Clawson wasn’t a good idea, but it had to be done. This whole damn thing was getting out of hand.
It is difficult to know at what moment love begins;
it is less difficult to know it has begun.
—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Chapter 23
His head rested on his arm as he listened to her breathing and watched her sleep. The discussion in his head had raged for hours. Sensing her warmth, inhaling her scent, and wanting to taste her lips . . . the voice of love was prevailing.
Claire floated in that place before consciousness, having difficulty distinguishing reality from fantasy, unsure what she was feeling. The epiphany came in the realization she was . . . feeling. It had been so long since she felt anything. She was