The Beauty Series Bundle (20 page)

“You pounded his face in because he wanted to have sex with me?”

“I damn sure did and I’d do it …” She cuts off my words with her mouth as she slams it against mine. Her hands are at my chest working to unfasten the buttons of my wined-stained shirt. Unsatisfied with such slow progress, she reaches for the bottom and pulls it over my head while it’s still buttoned.

She unfastens my belt buckle and then the button on my pants, this time more successful with the process. She slides my zipper down and puts her hand inside my jocks. Her hand encompasses me as she glides it up and down. Damn, this girl knows how to give a hand job.

She kisses me hard while her hand pumps me. I’m close to coming, but she doesn’t let me. “Where are the condoms?”

“Outer pocket, big suitcase.”

She kisses my mouth. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Hell, there’s no chance of that. I stand and kick off my daks and jocks while she’s digging for the rubbers.

She slinks toward me flipping a foil package between two fingers. She uses her palms to push me down on the bed. “I’m putting it on this time.”

“No argument here, baby.”

She opens the packet and I’m such a guy. I lift my head because I want to watch her put it on me. It’s hot watching her hands touch me like that. When she finishes, she shimmies her panties down her legs and steps out of them. She climbs one knee at a time onto the bed and straddles me. My hands are splayed over her hips as she watches my face. “So, you don’t want Swinger Chris to have me?”

Ugh, I need that image out of my head. “No fucking way.”

My tip is at her wet entrance, but she doesn’t slide down on it. She’s rocking her hips back and forth, teasing me. “Can anyone else have me, or is Swinger Chris the only one who can’t?”

“No one else can have you, Laurelyn. I’m the only one.”

She smiles. “Then show me.”

L
achlan comes
up from the bed and flips me onto my back. He’s kneeling between my legs and hooks them around his arms so he can push them back. He’s not gentle about it. He drives into me without mercy, but that’s the way I want this. His mouth is against my ear.

“You’re mine. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” I scream partly because it’s my answer, but mostly because what he’s doing feels so good.

“I want you to say it.”

We’re sideways on the bed and each thrust shoves me farther across the mattress until my head is hanging off the edge. “I’m … yours … and … no … one … else’s.”

He releases one of my legs and his hand slides down so his fingers can stroke me above our point of fusion. “No one else touches you here like this.”

I’m panting as I lift my hips against him and his fingers. “Only you, Lachlan.”

He hits my sweet spot perfectly and I feel myself contract around him, detonating his orgasm. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs, so I do because no one’s around to hear me. “Ah, ah!”

“Ah, Laurelyn.” There’s my name, just like always when he comes.

He rolls off me and collapses onto the bed. My head is still dangling off the side so I scoot back onto the mattress. I’m on my back and I stare up at the beautiful sheer panels draped over the canopy above us with one thought—this bed was meant for making love, but that isn’t what we just did. It never is.

T
he bedroom fills
with bright sunlight despite the curtains. I smell breakfast—definitely bacon—maybe pancakes. I’m hungry, but I’m sleepier, so I pull the sheet up over my head. It was a late night.

I get a few more minutes’ sleep before I feel Lachlan reach under the sheet to tickle my nose. I wiggle it to relieve the need to scratch, but give in and reach under the covers and rake my nails across it. “I thought you got to sleep in on vacation.”

“This isn’t vacation for me. It’s work and I have to leave soon, but I wanted to have brekkie with you for your birthday.”

How does he know? I lift the covers to see him. He’s grinning because he’s so proud of himself. “How did you know it’s my birthday?”

“You told me on our second date.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Well, you did, and I remembered, so get up for your birthday breakfast.”

I can’t believe he remembered. He has such an eye for detail. Did he tell me when his birthday is? If he did, I forgot.

I walk into the kitchen and there is a huge breakfast buffet across the counter. There’s no way we could eat all of it. “Did you do all of this?”

“Would you think less of it if I didn’t?”

“No.”

“I had it catered from one of the local restaurants.”

“It smells delicious.”

He passes a plate to me. “Birthday girl goes first.”

While I’m plating my food, he pours me a glass of juice. He puts it on the dining room table and then joins me with a mile-high stack of pancakes. “Hungry much?”

“I had a famishing night, but I always eat this much in the morning. You’d know that if you were ever awake to join me for breakfast.” He’s never going to stop teasing me about being a late sleeper.

“How’s the hand today?”

He holds it up to make a fist and then releases it. “It hurts, but I can move it, so it’s not broken.”

“No one’s ever done anything like that for me.”

“Anytime, babe.”

When I finish, I slide my plate away because I’m stuffed. “That was wonderful. Thank you. It was a thoughtful gift to wake up to.”

“The food isn’t your gift.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black velvet jewelry box. He puts it on the table and slides it to me. “But this is.”

I’m not fool enough to think, or hope, this little box contains a ring. I know it doesn’t because that would be ridiculous, but it definitely contains a piece of jewelry.

I reach for it and flip the top open. Inside is a star-shaped pendant covered in what I assume are diamonds. “I chose it because you’re going to become a huge superstar after you get home.”

It’s the best birthday present ever. And the worst.

It’s the best because it’s so encouraging and thoughtful. It’s the worst because it means that when he’s telling me I’m his, he leaves off the part about it only being for the next six weeks.

“You don’t like it?”

I force a smile. “It’s perfect and I love it. Thank you.”

I take it out of the box and pass it to him. “Will you?” I turn and lift my hair so he can put it on me. After he closes the clasp, he kisses the back of my neck.

“I wish I could stay with you all day.”

I turn around and touch the pendant with my fingertip. “Me too.”

He smiles as he admires his gift around my neck. “I’ll try to get back early.”

“Early or late, either way, I’ll be here.”

“I still don’t want you to go into the water without me.”

“Ugh! There’s a country song called ‘Don’t Go Near the Water.’ Now it’s going to be stuck in my head all day and I hate that freakin’ song. Thanks a lot, slick.”

He kisses the top of my head. “Don’t know it, but you can thank me every time you catch yourself singing it.”

He’s wearing a suit today. Damn, he’s hot in it—scorching hot. He’s standing over me and I grab the lapels of his jacket to pull him down for a kiss. The peck he gave me on top of my head wasn’t near enough to do me all day. When I let him go, I tell him, “That’s your incentive to work fast so you can leave early and come back to me.”

I
spend
the day reading on the beach, not swimming in the water, although it’s hot as hell. It’s midafternoon and I decide to take a break from the sweltering heat, so I go into the house for a snack and some air conditioning.

I’m sitting at the dining room table having some leftover fruit from my birthday breakfast when my personal phone rings. It’s my mom, no doubt calling to wish me a happy birthday.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Happy birthday, baby girl.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you having a good one?”

“The best.” And it is. I’m staying at a house on a private beach in New Zealand with a beautiful man I can’t get enough of. Nothing beats this.

“Well, I’ve got some news that’s going to make it even better.”

Her idea of good news and my idea aren’t always the same. “What is it?”

“It’s your dad. He came to see me, baby. He wants to meet you.”

This is a perfect example of when our ideas of good news are on two different spectrums. “Why?”

“Because you’re his daughter.”

I would’ve given anything to hear those words when I was a child. All I wanted was for my rich and famous father to rescue me from her when I was surviving off tap water and moldy bread because she was too strung out to go to the grocery store. I prayed he’d come and save me, but he didn’t. “He hasn’t wanted me as his daughter for twenty-three years, and he doesn’t get to change his mind now because the only child he claimed is dead.”

“It’s not like that, Laurie.”

“It is like that, Mom. I’ve been his dirty little secret all these years. At least have the balls to be honest about it.” I don’t know the exact moment the tears start, but I can’t stop them once they begin. The more I try to hold them in, the harder they come. “He’s pretended I didn’t exist my whole life and the only reason he wants me now is because he has no other children left.”

I’m shocked to feel warm arms around me as Lachlan takes the phone from my hand. When did he get back? “I’m sorry. Laurelyn will have to call you back later.”

He hangs up on my mother and silences the ringer before he tosses the phone to the couch. He wraps his arms around me and I melt into him. He doesn’t ask what she’s said to upset me, but I think he has a good idea if he heard any part of our conversation.

This is another one of those moments like the morning I almost left him. He holds me and his embrace speaks without saying a word.

I
’m pissed
off because Laurelyn’s mother would call and upset her this way, especially on her birthday. This isn’t improving my opinion of her at all. She’s a selfish, immature woman.

I don’t understand her thought process behind her decision to tell Laurelyn this news about her father on her birthday. She knew it would upset her. Even I know that. I want to be a total caveman and slam the thing against the wall so Laurelyn’s mother can never call her on it again, but I can’t.

Maybe I don’t understand because it’s a mother/daughter thing, but something feels off to me about their relationship.

I rub circles on her back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I feel her head oscillating from side to side, telling me no. I kiss the top of her head and pull her to the couch. I’m still in my suit so I take off my jacket and toss it across the chair. I sit on the couch and pat the cushion between my legs. “Come sit with me.”

She sits and leans against my chest. She’s wearing a black string bikini I’ve never seen and she smells like coconut and sweat from being in the sun. I’m twitching in my pants because she’s so close. I can’t help it. Whoa, settle down, boy … now’s not the right time.

Laurelyn can be difficult to read at times, but she’s hurting and I want to give her the support she deserves. She damn sure doesn’t get it from anyone else in her life. I think simply holding her is what she wants, so that’s what I do. I’m content to sit here with her for as long as she needs me.

We sit together like that for at least a half hour before she stops crying and says anything. She lifts her face to see me over her shoulder. “You came back early.”

“Of course I did. I want to be with the birthday girl on her special day.”

She reaches for my hand and laces her fingers through it. “I don’t think you know how good you are at this.”

“What am I good at?”

“Whatever this is we’re doing.”

I no longer have any idea what we we’re doing. I only know I like it. “I think you’re pretty good at this too. Whatever it is.”

She lifts the hand I used on Swinger Chris and inspects it. “Your hand looks a lot better. The swelling is down.”

“It’s fine. It barely hurts anymore.” She brings it to her lips. “Your kiss will make it all better in no time.”

She puts her finger on the leg of my daks and draws an imaginary infinity symbol. I remember another time when she did it. It was after our second date when I explained everything to her about what I wanted. She does it when she’s nervous.

“He wants to meet me.”

He. I heard enough of the conversation to know she’s talking about her father, the sperm donor. That’s how I’ve come to think of him after hearing her call him that so many times. “How do you feel about that?”

“I think I’ve already met him.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I have a memory from my childhood. It’s very vague, but I’m sure I remember meeting him when I was little. My mom dressed me in a navy sailor dress. It had this huge collar on it and she pulled my hair up in pigtails. I was adorable,” she laughs. “She took me to a place where ducks paddled around in this fountain. They fascinated me, but she wouldn’t let me stay to watch them. She took me to him. I know it was the sperm donor, even if I don’t remember his face. As far as I know, I never saw him again—except on television and in the music department at Wal-Mart.”

“You’re not curious about him?”

“There have been times in my life when I was and I’d have given anything to see him, but it ain’t today. And it won’t be tomorrow.”

I
t’s
late evening and Laurelyn is in the bathroom getting ready to go out for dinner. I’m sitting on the couch and hear the buzzing vibration of her phone, but it stops before I’m able to pick it up. I look at the screen and see a missed call from Blake Phillips. Who the hell is he?

He could be anyone. A relative. A friend. A boyfriend. I want to know, but I don’t dare ask because I’m afraid to know the answer.

Laurelyn comes into the living room and I slide her phone into my pocket. I don’t want her to know I saw the call from this man; tonight isn’t the right time to have this conversation.

She’s caught a lot of sun while we’ve been here and her skin is golden against her cream sundress. I’m happy to see her wearing her birthday gift, and I reach out to touch it where it rests against her neck. “This is perfect on you.”

She smiles as she reaches up to touch it. “It’s beautiful and I love it. Thank you again.”

“You’re more beautiful. And you’re welcome.”

I take her to an Italian restaurant where I’ve eaten before when in town on business. The food is great and it’s the last place I’d expect to be accosted by a set of sexual deviants. At least I hope. My fist isn’t ready to be used again quite so soon. I told Laurelyn it was fine, but I lied. It still hurts like hell.

“You’re unusually quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours, Mr. Henry?”

I’m thinking of things better left alone. I know she’s only been with one other man. Is it Blake Phillips? Not knowing is taunting me. Is he the one who hurt her? I can’t get him off my mind, so I decide there are other ways of asking about him without asking.

“I was thinking about how a beautiful woman like you must date a lot.”

She smiles and the candlelight illuminates her high cheekbones. “I do. I’ve had a date with an extremely handsome man almost every day for the past six weeks.”

She’s deflecting from the real question. “No, I mean before you came here.”

She shrugs as she looks down at her plate. “Not so much.”

“What about a serious relationship?”

Her head oscillates from side to side. “Not really.”

I don’t think she’s lying to me, but I find it hard to believe someone so desirable has never been in a relationship. “You’ve never had a boyfriend?”

She’s fidgeting in her seat. I’m making her uncomfortable, so there’s plenty she isn’t telling me. “I had something one time, but boyfriend doesn’t feel like the right word for what he was to me.”

“Was it serious?” Was it Blake Phillips?

She’s pushing her food around and I think I’ve upset her. Dammit. “I thought it was at the time, but we had a difference of opinion.”

“Oh.” Does that mean he left her? Does she still want him?

“What’s with all the questions?”

“Nothing. Just making conversation.” She’s being vague, which causes me to be suspicious. My gut tells me there’s much more to this story. She isn’t a woman who has had a single one-sided serious relationship, but I choose to drop it for now, leaving it open as a topic I may want to revisit. Looks like we both have secrets.

S
he’s sitting
at the dining room table with her eyes closed when I bring in a cake with twenty-three flaming candles. “You can open your eyes.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of fire.”

“Wait until you’re thirty,” I laugh. “There’s even more.”

Her brow wrinkles. “You told me you were twenty-nine.”

“I was when we met.”

“When did you turn thirty?”

“A couple of weeks ago—on the thirteenth.”

“You didn’t tell me,” she whispers and she looks hurt. I see her thumbing through her filed memories from two weeks ago. “It was when you went to your parents’ house, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“When I almost left you?”

“Yes.”

“You should’ve told me.”

“You mean the same way you told me today was your birthday?”

She laughs. “Right. I don’t guess I can be too upset with you since I did the exact same thing. I would’ve given you a gift if I’d known.”

I sit in the chair beside her and take her hands. “But, you did. Staying with me was the best gift you could’ve given me.”

I don’t think she knows what to say to that, so I make it easy for her. “Make a wish and blow out your candles before we catch the house on fire.”

She smiles and draws a deep breath before she leans forward to extinguish the twenty-three tiny flames.

I want all of her wishes to come true. Not just this one.