Beyond Me(24)
Author: Jennifer Probst

The audience fell quiet. He ventured onto the rope, step after step, making his way to the middle. Filled with poise and grace, his movements flowed into one another as he hit dead center, and the sun dropped out of sight, scattering the skyline with sparks of vibrant orange and blackness.

His shadow was beautiful as he completed his ballet dance over the water, then with a flip, he steadied and reached the right landing.

I whistled and clapped hard until my hands stung. “Do they do this every night?” I asked, craning my head up to look at James.

“Every night,” he confirmed. “And it’s always crowded.”

“Such a beautiful tradition,” I murmured. How badly I craved routine in my life. I lived consistently wondering what disaster would await me at home, trying to control things I couldn’t. But tradition was sweeter than routine, and brought elements of family, love, or comfort. “I wish we had something like this in Chicago.”

He stole some popcorn and fed me first, then himself. “Smaller towns and islands have more unique events like this. Bigger cities are great, but you can get a bit lost.”

“Which do you prefer?” I asked curiously.

He paused in the act of chewing. “I’d prefer to settle in a big city and take side trips. I grew up in New York.”

“How long did you stay there?”

He shrugged. “Till about ten, I think. Then we moved to Florida. My father runs a big banking empire, so every time there’s some type of merger, we follow the trail. We’ve been in Chicago for a while too, and California.”

I tried to be casual, but I was hungry for more information. “Your father didn’t try and recruit you for banking?”

A shadow of pain passed over his face. “Yeah, he did. Declared me incompetent for such a career. When I made my first mistake, he pointed it out in a big meeting and humiliated me. Basically told everyone I’d never step into his shoes, but he couldn’t reject his son because it was a family business. Then took me in his private office to tell me how worthless I was.”

I winced. My dad was a drunk, but I always knew he loved me, even when he screwed up. I couldn’t imagine being with parents who were cold. “And your mom?”

“Mom runs charity functions and has little to say in Dad’s business. She runs in high society groups, throws big parties, that sort of shit. I tried to be what my father wanted for almost a year, but it was a f**ked-up mess, and I finally quit. He insisted I try out some Ivy League careers then, probably by greasing some palms of bigwig ass**les, so I flunked out.” He shrugged again. “No big deal. They both leave me alone now so I can do what I want.”

It sounded good, but realizing your own parents didn’t care about you was bound to cause some issues. “What do you want to do now?” I asked.

He stared at me, seemingly surprised by the direct question. A glint of hunger sparked in his ice blue eyes. Oh yeah, he did want to do something. Art? I leaned in, greedy for any information he’d share. Finally, he answered. “More.”

So much vibrated within his one-word answer. “Like?” I prodded.

A half-grin tugged at his lips. “Wanna know all my secrets?”

“Yes.”

He paused, as if trying to choose his response carefully. “My parents made me feel like a loser for not being what they wanted. I don’t even think they meant to do it. They just had an idea of what I’d do, and never cared to see if I disagreed. I was drawn to the artistic field. Painting, drawing, music, acting. Anything that seemed to strip off the surface. I’m so f**king tired of appearances.” My heart lurched. He looked so sad, lost, and a tad vulnerable. “I tried taking these classes on sculpture once. Worked my ass off for weeks for a gift for Mom’s birthday. It was a takeoff on a Madonna and Child, which was supposed to be us. When I gave it to her, she looked so shocked. I thought she’d finally give me a compliment and see what I really wanted to do.”

“What did she say?”

His face lost all expression. “Thanked me, of course. She’s always polite. Told me the best present in the world would be for me to get a respectable job and stop fooling around with stuff. And that was it. I found it buried in the back of the garage a few days later.”

I sucked in my breath. I knew he didn’t want my pity, so I did the next best thing. I stood on tiptoe and kissed him, long and deep and gentle. I didn’t care about the crowds around us or anything but soothing a bit of that pain he was trying so hard to hide. His arms snagged around my waist and pulled me hard against him, and I lost myself in the kiss until the ground seemed to sway beneath my feet. My breath cut out and I held on hard, desperate to have him fill me between my thighs and take my mouth and swallow me whole. I shook, completely helpless under such raw need, and then he raised his head and stared into my eyes.

“I want you.”

My voice broke. “Yes.”

“Stay with me tonight, Quinn,” he whispered. “Sleep in my bed and let me f**k you for hours, until we don’t care about anything anymore.”

My blood boiled and I clutched his shoulders. “Yes.”

I don’t remember how long it took us to get back to his villa. It was different in the silence and the dark, a majestic, multi-level structure hidden in the trees. The pool gleamed an eerie blue, and the endless windows were like eyes peeking out at the world. He led me upstairs without pause, both of us so driven by hunger for each other we didn’t need to do any polite routines.

He shut the door behind me. I glanced quickly at my surroundings. His room was a huge suite, with a king-size sleigh bed and majestic food board in dark cherry wood. French doors led out to a balcony, and I glimpsed a huge master bath with a Jacuzzi tub off the open door to the right. The colors were rich brown, dark blue, and creams.

“I want you naked.” His blue eyes were so hot they blistered me, roving over my body and probing beneath my clothes. “Take everything off.” Oh God, my knees weakened at that sexy, domineering tone. My hands paused on the edge of my T-shirt, but I was trembling so bad I couldn’t work the material. He took a step forward. “As much as I’d love a naughty strip show, I can’t wait, Quinn. So, let me help you.”

His hands covered mine. He helped guide the shirt up over my chest and threw it on the ground. The white lacy bra was simple but pretty, and my ni**les hardened under his hungry stare, trying to escape their confines. He cupped my br**sts, murmuring beautiful words that lulled me into a trance, and unhooked the front clasp. I arched, and he stroked me, lowering his mouth to tongue my ni**les and rub them until I was swollen and tender. In seconds, my denim shorts were gone, along with my lacy bikini bottoms, and I was naked, standing in front of him.