“I’d never been stood up before you. That hurt.” He reached out to adjust my necklace, a simple cross that had belonged to my mother before she’d died. His fingers felt hot on my already too warm skin, like adding fire to fire.
We sparked.
“And yet you didn’t even remember who I was when you first saw me.” I put my hand on his thigh, lightly, cautiously. His muscle flexed under my touch, and a thrill shot down my spine.
He tugged lightly on a piece of my hair, and I could imagine him pulling it harder. “I didn’t recognize you without the ponytail.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
His face grew somber. “I really was into you, Sabrina.”
The soberness of his declaration was hard to believe. “For all of five minutes. Literally five minutes.”
“There were a lot of girls at that school. It took me a while to notice you.” He put his hand on my bare knee and stroked the skin on the inside of my lower thigh. “Not my fault.”
“Uh-huh.” It was hard to refute him when my body was swimming in this dizziness. I’d wanted him so much back then. Not just him, but all that he stood for—his school, his money, his future. That want lingered into the want I had for him now.
“If you’d have come to that party…” He trailed off, his voice thick and seductive.
“Then what?” I’d thought about it from time to time over the years. Wondered what could have happened between Weston and me if we’d had the chance.
He leaned in and told me now. “I would have tried to get you into bed.”
I inhaled his words, taking them in all the way before responding. “I would have gone.”
At least I would have if that other thing hadn’t happened. When he’d invited me, I’d hoped for that. After the incident with Donovan, I wasn’t sure anymore what I’d wanted.
“You would have?”
I nodded. “You wouldn’t have even had to try very hard. I had a major crush on you.”
Weston’s hand moved higher up my leg, and he leaned in to whisper near my ear. “I’m going to try to get you into bed now.”
He was a special kind of catnip. Not only was he someone I’d wanted in the past, but he’d also achieved everything I’d ever desired for myself. There was something unexplainably attractive about that.
But I didn’t have to use words to tell him trying wasn’t necessary. Weston King had this one in the bag.
Chapter 7
I picked up Weston’s slacks off the floor, shook them, then dropped them again when nothing fell out. Circling, I scanned the room for the third time. “I can’t find my panties,” I said with a sigh.
Weston watched me from the bed, his head propped up with his hand. “You don’t need them.”
“I do. I have to get dressed.” I looked again through the skirt, bra, and camisole I was holding, in case I’d missed my underwear clinging to one of them. Not there. I dropped the clothes on the bed and sighed again.
“No, you don’t. Stay here,” he beckoned. “Stay in bed with me forever.”
“I can’t. You know I have to get back.” After drinks on Friday night, Weston had taken me to his penthouse and fucked me until the sun came up. We’d stayed in bed all day Saturday and most of today, leaving only to eat on occasion. Now it was Sunday afternoon, and I had a red-eye to catch.
“Where did you put them after dinner last night?” he asked, stretching so the sheet fell down his body, exposing his bare torso and the beautiful happy trail that I’d become so familiar with in the last couple of days.
I dragged my thoughts back to the evening before. We’d gone to an Asian fusion restaurant. Weston had fingered me on the cab ride home. “I didn’t wear them to dinner last night.”
“Oh, yeah.” He grinned, his eyes lighting up with hunger.
My belly tightened. “Stop looking at me like that, or I’m never getting out of here.”
He reached down to rub the semi that was already taking shape beneath the sheet. “I really don’t have a problem with that.”
“Weston…” I warned. In support of what she called my much-needed sexcapade, Ashley had taken care of packing my suitcase, but I still had to pick it up from the hotel doorman before heading to the airport. With city traffic, I needed to leave in the next thirty minutes. “I have to go.”
He sat up and leaned against the headboard, and based on his new position, I assumed he was preparing to move the conversation in a serious direction. “But why do you have to go?”
Or not so serious.
He knew why I had to leave. “I have a flight,” I answered anyway as I unbuttoned the dress shirt that I’d snagged off the floor after my shower earlier.
“Miss it.”
“I have to go home.” I threw the dress shirt on the bed.
“Why?” He leaned forward and stroked a finger along the curve of my breast.
“I have a job,” I said, smacking his hand away.
“Quit your job.” He groaned as I put my bra on, covering up the breasts he’d spent so much time fondling over the weekend. He’d been playful, not too rough, and though it wasn’t the kind of touch that made me immediately wet, it felt good enough. It was normal and healthy and that’s what I always hoped for in a sexual encounter.
“I can’t quit my job.” I paused as I turned my skirt, finding the back of it. “I need a job. I wasn’t born of the means to not have to work like some other people.”
“Other people,” he laughed. “People like me, you mean?”
I smiled demurely and stepped into my skirt. “Maybe.”
“I have a job,” he said, somewhat defensively.
Suddenly feeling bad, I stepped toward him and hugged him to my chest. “You do,” I said, conciliatorily, stroking my fingers through his blond hair. “You do have a job. And I have a job. On the opposite side of the country.”
He clutched my ass and pulled me closer. “You could have a job on this side of the country,” he said into my breasts.
“I could. But I don’t.”
He kissed along my cleavage. “Come work for me. Quit your job and you’re hired. Who even likes L.A.? All that smog and superficiality. Quit and work for me.”
He was joking, so I laughed, but also my heart thumped harder. How long had I wanted the life that he was dangling like a toy? “You don’t even know if I have any qualifications.”
“Oh, I know several of your qualifications.” He maneuvered me around and pulled me onto his lap so I could feel his erection pressing into the curve of my back, confirming his lack of seriousness. “Shall we discuss them in detail or shall I let you remind me in other ways?”
“Weston…” I moaned, as his hand found its way up my skirt. My thighs parted automatically for him, and his thumb slid along my bare pussy until he landed on my clit. “You’re making it hard to leave.”
“My plan is working then.” He circled his thumb slowly, teasing me.
“Mm. That feels good.” My body began humming, ready to start climbing the spiral mountain of pleasure. “You have to stop,” I pleaded.