Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) (18 page)

I’m wowed. So if that was Nolan Delaney’s plan, he’s certainly succeeded. But…
But
. None of this makes much sense. Why is he doing this?

Stop complaining, Ivy. He’s still interested, that’s why
.

I’m not putting myself down. I’m quite a good catch. And I did appreciate his blow job compliment. I fooled him, didn’t I?

But.

He wants to talk business. Which, in my book, is not compatible with being brought to his home.

And he’s more than I thought he was. A lot more. This house. I didn’t see this coming. I pictured him living in some ultra-modern high-rise penthouse loft near downtown San Diego where all the action is. Where his clubs are. But this house. I don’t even know where to begin.

Nora is rich. And she’s been my best friend for enough years for me to understand the word rich. They have a huge house in Greenwich, Connecticut. Ocean view, private dock. Worth millions of dollars. More dollars than I ever thought about having. Everyone at the Bishop School for Girls was rich. Everyone but me.

And Nolan is up there in that kind of rich category.

But how do I trust a guy like him? Accused of rape.
Gang
rape. They all were. He has this air about him that reeks of danger. I’m not sure why, because he hasn’t really done anything too unusual. So far.

But.

That one word echoes in my head.

But.

“Ivy?” Nolan presses.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Why is it taking so long to make a decision?”

I turn to face him and almost wish I hadn’t. His looks. Damn. They are so distracting. Everything about him makes you want to stare. Take it all in and burn it into your memory.

He’s not as intimidating now. Not like he was in his suit yesterday. I like casual Nolan. It puts me at ease a bit.

But maybe I shouldn
’
t be at ease with Mr. Romantic?

“I need to know more about you,” I say. “I don’t think all this stuff is appropriate, Nolan.”

His smile appears. Like he’s got another trick up his sleeve. “But last night was?”

“Last night I might’ve lost control a little, but the light of day—and your sister—have brought clarity to the situation. I don’t trust you.” There, I said it. “I just don’t trust you.”

“I should be the one who doesn’t trust you. Maybe you did slip that fake r
é
sum
é
in the pile? Maybe Corporate didn’t fuck with it? Maybe,” he says, that sly grin still gracing his face. “Maybe you came here to seduce me? Get pregnant and trap me?”

“Please.” I laugh. “I was the one who insisted on a condom.”

“True,” he says, taking my long blonde hair in his fingertips and pulling the hair tie out so it blows in the wind. “But how can I be certain?”

“I’m the one who needs to be certain, Nolan. Not you. I’m not dangerous.”

“Because you’re a woman?” he asks. “I’ve met my share of dangerous women before, Ivy.”

He’s got a point. “Well, I’m just not convinced this is a good idea. I like your house, and your car, and your view. But I’m not sure I actually like
you
.
”

He stares at me for a few seconds. Just the sound of the crashing waves and a low hum of people coming from the racetrack down below. “Would you like to know a secret about me, Ivy? Something no one else knows?”

“What kind of secret?”

“What do you need to know in order to trust me?”

I take a deep breath and let it out. “What happened that night?”

He shakes his head. “No, not that.”

“Why not? If you have nothing to hide?”

“Because we made a pact to never talk about it again. And to be honest, I don’t actually know what happened that night.”

“How could you not know, Nolan? You were there.” What does he take me for? Some simpleton who will eat up his words and accept everything that comes out of his mouth as truth?

“I
wasn’t
there.”

“What do you mean? Of course you were there. Everyone knows you were there.”

“I was…” But he stops.

“You were what?” I’m dying now, and he’s not getting anything from me until I understand what happened.

After a long silence he says, “I’ll tell you why they call me Mr. Romantic instead. How about that?”

“I already know why. You’re a player.”

“No,” he says. “I told you. That’s not why they call me Mr. Romantic. Claudette was lying. Well, not really lying. She has no idea either.”

So. A real secret. About his nickname, no less. “OK, then tell me.”

“Over breakfast,” he says, that winning grin back in place.

I feel like I just walked into a trap. I feel like a rabbit looking up into the eyes of a wolf.

“You want to take a shower?” he asks. “Freshen up while I cook? Come on, I’ll show you where.”

He takes my hand and leads me inside. The furniture is sparse and there’s not much about it that’s personal. Maybe that’s how he is? Impersonal. And this place says a lot about him. Or maybe all this was left over from his friend and he never bothered to change it?

He takes me through the large living area and back to the front foyer where we climb the stairs and walk down a catwalk that overlooks the view and the living room. It’s lined on either side with cables and steel posts. A very modern version of a railing.

We end up in what has to be the master bedroom because it has the same view as the back yard, but better.

“Here, Ivy. You can use my bathroom. I’ll bring your case up and leave it in the bedroom. Just come downstairs when you’re done and we’ll get started.”

Get started. We’re making a business arrangement. I should stop this. He’s going to tell me some far-fetched story about that night back in college. Something ridiculous that will ease my mind so he can take advantage of me.

Maybe.

Maybe that
is
what he’ll do.

But I can’t seem to stop myself. I feel a little bit like those people down on the track. Like I’m getting caught up in something. Something that might make me feel good in the moment, but be bad for me in the end.

“Go ahead,” Nolan says as I hesitate.

I stare out the window for a second, then look back at him, but he’s already walking away, pulling the door to the bedroom closed behind him.

I would like to freshen up. I’m feeling pretty grungy after the sex last night. So I walk into the bathroom and… wow. It’s wow.

A tall window on the far side looks out onto the ocean and my feet are in front of it and I
’
m staring down at the crashing waves before I even have time to think.

What a life. What must it be like to live a life like this?

I’ve never wanted for anything. I was well taken care of and I had access to the best education. If not in the world, then at least in this country. I grew up with nice things. But that’s all they were. Nice. The school was not… this. It was not luxurious. Yes, we had everything boarding schools on the East Coast have. Swimming pools and modern classrooms. Stables filled with several millions of dollars
’
worth of horses. Pretty uniforms and class trips.

But luxury like
this
is not something I’m used to.

The shower is so extravagant with all the shower heads and knobs, I don’t even know where to start. And the white marble floor complements the white marble tiles. The sparkling glass surround tells me Nolan either has a maid or he never bathes, because there’s not one water stain to be found. The sunshine from outside washes over the room in a soft, golden glow and the sheer white curtains and tall candlesticks make it feel romantic.

Romantic.

Is he… romantic?

No. My laugh echoes right up to the high ceilings.

I turn back to the shower and step inside so I can turn on the water. It comes falling down from the ceiling in a large square pattern, making me step out to avoid getting soaked.

“Well, if one must clean up after messy sex the night before, this is not a bad way to do it.”

I slip Nolan’s t-shirt off my body and his scent almost overtakes me. I wish I could keep this shirt on forever.

The shorts slip down my legs and I step away, kicking them aside.

It’s steamy now, and I can’t wait to get in and stand under that rain shower of hot water. But just as I’m about to step in, the door opens.

Chapter Twenty-One - Nolan

She’s talking to herself when I bring the case up to the master bedroom. I walk over to the bathroom door and press my ear against it, but she goes quiet again and all I hear is the water raining down in the shower.

Is she under that water yet? I picture her wet body the way it was last night in the pool. And even though I said I’d cook breakfast while she showered, I’m not in the mood for food.

I’m in the mood for Ivy Rockwell’s body.

I just want to see it. Just look at her tits in the daylight. Take in the curve of her hips with my eyes instead of my fingertips as I grabbed onto them and fucked her from behind last night.

So I open the door… and I’m immediately busted. She’s not even in the shower yet.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I expect her to cover herself, but she doesn’t. She just stands there. So what can I do but look?

“Fucking hell,” I say.

“Get out, Nolan,” she says.

But I don’t get out. I take a step inside and reach behind my head to grab the collar of my t-shirt. It comes off and I toss it near her shorts.

“Nolan,” she says again. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t,” I say.

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t just walk away after seeing this.” I wave a hand down her body. She is only a few feet away, so I cross the distance and place my hands on her hips. My eyes can’t see enough.

She wriggles, but I hold tight as I study her tits. Her nipples are hard, pulling her breasts up. And they are begging me to suck them.

“Nolan,” she says again, but this time it’s a whisper. “Nolan.”

“Keep saying my name, Ivy. It only makes me want to fuck you more.”

“Nolan.” And then she stops herself.

I look up at her face and she bites her lip. “What?”

“I thought we were having breakfast?”

“I can eat pussy for breakfast.”

“Stop it,” she says.

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.
Yet
.
”

“We’re going to talk business.”

“We can still talk business.”

“You were going to tell me a secret over breakfast.”

“I can tell you a secret in the shower.” She’s silent. “Come on, Ivy. Give me another chance.”

“Another chance at what?” She’s exasperated. Uneasy. Unsure of what’s happening.

But that’s OK. I’m very sure of what’s happening. “To make you feel good.” I grab her breast and squeeze. She sucks in a breath and makes a little moan. “Let me try again. I won’t hurt you this time, I promise.”

“I want what you promised me downstairs. I want to know why they call you Mr. Romantic first.”

“OK,” I say. “But I can do that at the same time.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I place a finger over her lips to keep her quiet. “Trust me for a minute. Let me tell you my way. It’s so much better than revealing my secret over pancakes.”

She’s so out of her league with me. I know that. She’s inexperienced in almost every way. And I’ve got all the experiences she craves.

And since she doesn’t try to stop me again, I push my shorts down and fist my cock. She stares at my hand as I pump. And it occurs to me, she hasn’t gotten a proper look at my body either.

“Do you like it?” I ask, reaching for her hand. Releasing my hand and replacing it with hers. “Do you like how big it is?”