Lush (13 page)
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else had seen it before. It only mattered that he saw it then. That 25
this Mary was his delicious secret.
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And she began to ride.
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Slowly, she rose to her knees, nearly coming all the way off,
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and then she reversed course, sliding back down to take him in
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Over and over until beads of sweat popped out on his brow.
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He knew he had a thin sliver of control left.
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“You’re killing me.”
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Again her smile. “Nuh-uh.”
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She felt so good. Her body right around his cock. The heat
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of her burning against his skin, even through the latex. Her hair
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had begun to dry and curl up again. It fl owed around her face
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and down her shoulders like a wild river.
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Her skin gleamed with the sweat of a good, hard fuck. Her
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breasts swayed just so. Her expression was open, candid. A
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woman who liked to come. Who liked sex and wasn’t afraid for
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him to know it.
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For some reason this got to him in ways no other woman had.
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She swiveled when she came back down on him and the last
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threads of his control wisped away. He was so close he could
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already feel climax sliding through his system.
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His fi ngers dug into the muscle at her hips, holding her in
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place as he rolled his hips to thrust up as he came.
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She fell to the bed beside him as he managed to roll out. “Be
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right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
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When he returned she snorted. “Where would I go? I’m
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naked, pretty boneless and I have an equally naked man in my
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room. I have everything I need right here.”
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“Want a beer? I didn’t order one at dinner, but after the day
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with my brothers looking at houses, my god.”
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“I haven’t even looked in the mini fridge but you’re welcome
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to whatever is in there. Or we can order some. Was it awful,
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then? I thought you got on with your brothers.”
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He laughed as he padded from the room to poke around in
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the mini fridge. As he suspected, Adrian had taken care to stock
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it well.
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“Adrian is a good host,” he called out, but she moved out to
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join him, now wearing a bright yellow short robe thing that
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showcased her tits.
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“Wow, that’s my favorite robe ever.”
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“Daisy gave it to me. She does that.”
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He cracked open the beers, handed her one and clinked his
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to it. “Cheers. Welcome to New York City, Mary Whaley. I’m
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sure glad you’re here.”
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They settled on the couch. He pulled her legs up over his. “I
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am close with my brothers. But the process of looking for a
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house is stressful enough. Paddy kept getting calls and Vaughan
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chatted up the real estate agent and I just wanted to look at the
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one house and come back. But of course Vaughan wants to nail
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her so we had to look at other houses and really, a few we saw
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were also pretty awesome and great options, so that meant calls
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back to Ezra. Herding cats. That’s what our mom says we’re
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like. She’s right.”
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“I can’t even imagine being a real estate agent and having
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you three show up. My lord. All that charm in one place. It’s
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lucky she didn’t pass out. Did you choose one?”
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“I think so. I sent pictures to Ezra. He’s going to look them
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over and get back to me in the morning.”
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“Ezra is the oldest, right? He runs the ranch with your dad,
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you said?”
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He nodded, wondering if she knew the story.
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“He’s the stable one? Ryan is the stable one in our family.
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Cal is a hothead, though not at work. I’m the artsy one. My
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dad— who is a retired ironworker, by the way— says I’m fl ighty.
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But he smiles so it’s not an insult. Ryan is a schoolteacher. Math
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and biology. At a middle school. I don’t know how he does it.
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But the kids love him. He never loses it with them. He’s the one
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I talk to about my business stuff. Cal sets up my business paper-
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work, but Ryan gives the best advice.”
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Being with her was . . . surprisingly normal. He didn’t sit
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around after sex, drinking beer and talking real estate with
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other women. He couldn’t have told anyone about their back-
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grounds or what their families were like.
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“Ezra used to be in the band. He started it actually. But it was
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not easy for him. He decided to leave and focus on the ranch.
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It was his idea to start the hay crop. He and my dad are a lot
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alike. He’s a hell- raiser. Or he was, he’s mellowed.” Since he got 14
out of rehab and worked all day long on horseback or in a truck.
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The physical nature of the job seemed to fi ll a need in him.
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“It’s nice you guys can do this for your parents.”
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“It’s one of my favorite things about fame. Having the money
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to do things for my parents like this. They’ve done so much for
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us. It’s a good thing to take care of them.”
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Later that night, as she fell asleep against him, he realized
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he’d gotten used to her awfully fast.
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C
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an I just tell you you clean up well?” Damien looked
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her up and down. She wore a smart navy- blue dress
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with towering heels. Truly she was absolutely gorgeous
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and elegant and he was very glad he was with her that evening.
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“As many times as you like.”
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Her smile was saucy. She was saucy. He liked it. Liked her.
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“I’ve got a cab ordered for us downstairs. We have some time
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fi rst. Would you like a drink?”
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“That’s nice of you. Yes. I’d love one. Here or . . . ?”
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They were set to head off to some swank and ridiculously
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hard to get a table at restaurant. Adrian had buttered some
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people up and scored a reservation for two and she’d chosen
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him as her plus one.
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“They have a bar at the restaurant. I looked it up. Not that
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I needed the bar. I mean I wanted to see what I was getting into.”
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God, he was fucking this up. She made him nervous. Not
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because she was judgy or snooty. But he wanted her to like him.
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Wanted to be sure he could handle himself at this place. He liked
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to know things. Being prepared was his measure of control.
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Her laugh calmed him a little. “It’s fi ne. Yes, let’s go there.
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I like to check out bar food too. I haven’t eaten all day just to
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be ready.”
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She took his arm. “Also, you really do look amazing in a
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suit. It works on you.”
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He’d dressed up for her and he was glad he had.
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“Come then, lady. Let’s get our grub on.”
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When they arrived at the restaurant, her eyes glittered. He
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squeezed her to his side, loving that she was so happy and that
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he could share that with her. In the bar, she ordered a very dry
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vodka martini with an olive and a few items from the menu.
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Plenty of people recognized him, but none approached, which
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he was thankful for. Maybe they forgot when they got a load
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of Mary’s legs in those damned heels. He knew he’d nearly
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stumbled twice because he’d been staring as they walked.
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By the time their reservation came up, he was ready to have
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her to himself in a more intimate situation. Bars were fun and
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all, but at their table it was intimate. He sat close enough to speak 25
quietly with her, close enough that he could smell her perfume.
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She chatted with the server, asking a million questions. So
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much so that the chef- owner came out and her eyes widened,
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though she managed to keep it together. He asked about her
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catering, her food and invited her to come back again the next
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time she was in the city.
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“If you’ll permit me, I have a menu in mind.”
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Jean Louis Valpar was her idol. And he stood right there,
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gray- haired, French and impeccable. Oh and charming. And he
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had a menu planned? As if she’d say no?
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“We would be most appreciative. I’ve been an admirer of
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your food for some time. I can’t wait to taste what you’ve got
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in store for us.”
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He took her hand, kissing her knuckles. “It will be my
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pleasure.”
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He spoke to the server in rapid- fi re French and the server
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disappeared to procure whatever he’d told her to.
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“She’ll be back momentarily.” Jean Louis bowed. “It was
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wonderful to meet you, Mary and Damien.”
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Once he’d gone, Mary turned to Damien. “Oh. My. God.”
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Damien smiled, taking her hand. “I sensed you might admire
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him a little.”
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“He’s like . . . my idol. The fi rst real cookbook I ever had
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was
Jean Louis’s Kitchen
. When people say they wanted to go 20
to Disneyworld or whatever, I always said I wanted to come
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here.”
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“That’s awesome.”
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The server returned with several appetizers, and the som-
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melier came by with wine.
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“Chef Valpar suggests these wines to go with each course.”
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She looked over the list and handed it Damien’s way.
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“That’s a lot of courses.”
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Mary grinned at him. “I know. I’m so glad I have an empty
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stomach. Though the martini has hit.”
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Wine was poured and she dug in, sharing with Damien.
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“I wish you were with me every time I went out to eat. I’d
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never have chosen any of this stuff. And yet, each forkful you
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create is perfect.”
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She blushed. “Thank you.”
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“So what ignited this love of food?”
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“I don’t know. I just have always loved it. My grandmother
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took me to a swanky restaurant in Portland for my eighth birth-
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day. It doesn’t exist anymore. But it was old- school French. I was 12
astounded by all the silverware, by the menu, which had been
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in French as well. My grandmother told me, after I had made a
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very safe choice, that I’d never ever look back at my life when I
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was her age and say I wished I’d made safe menu choices. She
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said life was about taking chances and trying new things. So I