My arms wrap underneath her thighs, holding her in place so I can fuck her with my mouth. I give her long licks again, letting her cool down for a minute, letting the urgency drop for just a second so I can build her back up. She cries in protest. “Beau.”
“Now I’m Beau again, huh?”
“Yes.” She hisses the word while pumping her hips toward me.
I’m messy with her. My lips are wet from her lust. I lick them and then go back for more. Her breathing fills the room, a counterpoint to the crackle and pop of the fire.
“Let me come. Please.”
“Not yet.”
“Oh God, it hurts. It hurts not to come.”
Maybe I’m drawing it out to punish her. Or maybe I just need her to feel as good as she’d have felt with Lucas and Oliver. Better than that. She could have gone with them and had a night to remember. They are famous in LA—and Prague, and Tokyo, and London—for their exploits. They could have taught her things, but I want her here—quivering under my lips.
That’s the kind of experience she can have later. The kind she will have later, when she leaves me. Because inevitably she’ll leave. I’ll be here, covered in sea spray, drenched in rain, freezing to death on the cliffs of Maine. Later, later. Right now she’s here. With me. I show my gratitude by pushing two fingers inside this time. I reach deep, finding the spot that makes her jolt. And then I rub it again. And again. She’s moaning now, seconds from coming. It’s getting harder to stop her. Harder to draw this out.
She’s on a razor’s edge, vibrating with how close she is. God, she’s magnificent. Her breasts shake. Her thighs tense. Her hand fists in my hair, demanding that I worship her.
I press the flat of my tongue against her clit at the same time as I twist my fingers inside her. She comes with a sharp cry, her whole body writhing. Darkness and chaos. Water in my lungs. I breathe the salt and musk of her deep, wanting to remember this for a cold future night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jane Mendoza
The doorbell rings at noon.
I open it without checking the peephole. I’m hoping it’s the event company come to pick up their china and silverware and sashes. Zoey is the one who made the order, and without information from her, I have no idea how to return them.
“Holy shit. You’re Mateo Garza.”
A casual smirk that probably earns him a zillion dollars per second on film. He’s wearing a plain blue T-shirt and jeans, but he might as well have just stepped off some fancy men’s magazine cover. “We met yesterday. You’re Jane, right? The nanny.”
“Yeah, but I thought I might have imagined it. I got a little tipsy.”
“Top-shelf vodka will do that.”
“Good thing I can’t afford it, then. Because my head hurts this morning.”
A small, sympathetic laugh. “I think we’re all feeling the hangover this morning.”
I open the door wider. “You’re here to see Mr. Rochester?”
“Yeah. Though I wanted to check on you, too.”
I glance behind me, just in case. Empty foyer. “Me?”
“Can we chat for a minute?”
“You want to talk to me? The nanny? Do you need tips on diaper changing, because I have to warn you right now, I don’t actually do that.”
He gives a genuine laugh then. “Come take a walk with me.”
After a beat of disbelief, I shake my head. Then I peek into the kitchen, where Paige is diligently sweeping her paintbrush across the printed worksheets. This is the next stage of virtual learning for her. We’ve moved on from rocks and tree stumps, but we still use paint. “I’m going to step outside, honey. Be back in ten minutes, okay? Try to finish the math worksheet by then, because then we have a bumblebee to color.”
Beau was really not kidding about their garden obsession.
I follow him outside, along the rocky trail that leads along the cliff. We look at the ocean. It’s a tame day. No rain. No thunder. Just the normal wild action of the waves. “Pretty,” he says.
My hands go to my pockets. It’s a little chilly, but I didn’t bother to put on a jacket. I didn’t think we’d be talking for that long. “Honestly, why am I here?”
“I’ve known Beau a long time.”
“Oh.” That’s interesting, since I’ve developed a major crush on my boss. Though I’m not sure how I can ever speak to him again after last night. It still doesn’t answer why Mateo Garza wants to talk to me alone. I glance up at his study. There’s no shadow. As far as I can see, he isn’t watching us walk. Which is good. Hopefully he’s in bed, letting his leg heal.
He continues walking, and I follow along. “I knew him back when he was starting his company. I was still doing open-call auditions back then. We were broke, basically.”
“No top-shelf vodka?”
“No top-shelf vodka. That came later, for both of us. The truth is I hold myself responsible for getting him into the party scene. Those are my people.”
Part of me wants to defend Mr. Rochester. Beau. He can choose his own friends. The other part of me acknowledges that he was an outsider last night. Even though he fit in—he had the money, the connections, everything they wanted from him. He didn’t enjoy himself there. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because he partied pretty hard after he sold his company. I’m not sure he ever really recovered. Then he got the call about Paige. Now you’re here.”
“I’m the nanny. That’s all.”
He gives me a get real look.
“Listen,” I say, stopping to turn and face him. “I’m sure you’re a very nice person. And it seems like you actually care about Mr. Rochester. And you’re this massive heartthrob guy that most girls would kill to meet. But he doesn’t need you to protect him from me.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“I get that I’m a broke nobody, so you think I’m after him for his money.”
“It would be one way to earn a living.”
“Or maybe you think I want to get some story that I can sell to the tabloids. Which is crazy. I mean for one thing, I’ve signed a nondisclosure agreement. For another thing, that’s just mean.”
“It’s mean,” he says, repeating me.
“I wouldn’t do that even if I hadn’t signed an agreement.”
“Maybe I am a little jaded. It’s been a while since I heard someone who wouldn’t do something for money or advancement because it was mean.”
“Both you and Mr. Rochester are jaded,” I tell him, crossing my arms.
“It’s possible I feel guilty about some of the hard partying he did. I hooked him up with that scene. I’m from here.” He nods across the water. “We moved to California together. He lived in San Francisco and I lived in LA, but we’d hang out together most weekends. He worked eighty-hour weeks Monday through Friday and he needed some connection to Maine.”
I’m quiet, hoping he’ll continue. It’s a surprise to me that he knew Beau before he got rich and famous. I suppose that means he knew Beau’s brother, too.