Tempest - Kris Michaels Page 0,68
kill him.
He pried his eyelids open and gazed down at her on her knees before him. Sex had always been mechanical. A means to an end. Only with Pilar was sex a conveyance to something more. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she glanced up at him. He could read every emotion in those beautiful blues. He felt the same way, and he hoped she could see it in his eyes. The intense connection shredded him. He gently tugged on her hair. "I'm close."
She moaned around the tip of his cock and rolled his balls in her hand. Oh, God... His orgasm kicked through his body, and the fireworks behind his eyelids exploded again. The sharp bark of his exhale echoed in the small bathroom. The sound of water falling and his deep breathing replaced the echoed sound of his release.
He helped her stand and wrapped her in his arms, lowering to kiss the woman he'd fallen in love with all those years ago. Label him a sap, a romantic, what the fuck ever society wanted to tattoo on his ass for wanting this woman more than anything in the world.
He froze for a second at the realization. She sighed and leaned into his chest as he held her tightly. Did he want her more than he wanted his revenge? Yes... no... fuck... maybe? She'd distorted his reality, and although they hadn't shared the words, he felt her emotions and saw the same feelings in her eyes.
The water blasted cold, jolting him. Her shriek and laughter bounced through the small bathroom. He hit the faucet, turning off the water, laughing as she shivered and grabbed for a towel.
"Well that's why they tell you to take a cold shower. Oh, my God! It was freezing!" She shoved a towel toward him and wrapped herself in cotton.
He laughed at her. "We'll have to try it again when hot water is guaranteed." She nodded and shivered. "Bed, under the sheets and covers. I'll be there in a moment."
"Okay." She bolted from the bathroom with a slight limp and squealed. "Air Conditioning! OMG, I'm turning into a popsicle!" Her words were muffled by a flurry of flapping sounds. He leaned to his right and chuckled at the lump huddled in the middle of the bed underneath the bedding.
He finished drying off, picked up her towel, and replaced it on the rack along with his. He checked the lock on the door and lifted the blankets, slipping into the bed. She snuggled up against him, and he held her until she stopped shivering.
The blankets rustled, and her head popped up from under the covers. "Was the call about work?"
"Always. We are heading back to the Palm Beach Yacht Club."
She deflated before his eyes. "Time to face reality?"
"Afraid so. You'll need to concoct something your mother will believe when you get home." He traced a circle on the soft skin of her back.
"No, I won't. I'll tell her I got bored."
He tipped his head so he could see her. "Is getting bored a thing with you?"
"It used to be, but about three years ago I met this guy who changed my way of thinking." She reared up on an elbow and tipped a tentative smile his way. "I grew up entitled and rich. I thought nothing of having a butler, a cook, a nanny, or a chauffeur. It was the way I grew up." She reached forward and traced a scar near his collarbone. It was from an old battle, a lifetime ago. "After I tried and failed to report you being held in New York, I did some serious soul searching. Things I’d never paid attention to started to matter. I didn't want my life to be a shell, and that's what it felt like. I'd always done what my mother wanted, when she wanted it done because as I said, it was the way I was raised. I'd started to question her, argue, and deviate from her plans. It got ugly. I was a freshly minted lawyer with the law on my side. She needed to stomp the independence out of me. So to quell my rebellion, she sent me into your cell, and then discredited me with the NYPD. She needs to have complete control, or in my case for the last three years, she needs to think she is in control."
"Be careful, if she thinks she's losing you, she could react badly." He had no doubt the woman would teach