She pushed her wine glass onto the table, out of her path, then slid from her chair and into his lap, straddling his thighs. He rested his hands on her hips, keeping her steady as she leaned forward, brushed her mouth tantalizingly along his jaw. He inhaled, filling his lungs with the sweet floral scent of her.
“Then we keep going.” Her fingers found the back of his neck, nails dragging along his hairline until a shiver trickled down his spine like melted wax. “Until you’re out of ideas.”
21
The water pressure in this shower was such a remarkable step up from the one in her apartment that Cami thought she might just offer to pay Des $100 a month to let her live in the 2’x4’ marble-and-glass box. As she rinsed his mentholated shampoo out of her hair via his ingenious rainfall showerhead, she contemplated the likelihood of him accepting such an offer. He probably wouldn’t be okay with losing his en suite shower to a struggling college student with a constant need for wifi access, regardless of the ridiculous amount of orgasms they were capable of achieving together.
Plus, he’d have to find somewhere else to keep his shampoo, and what man would want to be separated from a scent so masculine as Glacier Bullet Punch?
She turned and let the second, shoulder-height showerhead massage her orgasm-lax muscles. Rich people had way better showers. No wonder they made so much money. It was probably easy to convince people to give you raises when you were getting Swedish massages from your bathroom plumbing.
And the shower wasn’t even the most heavenly thing in his house. The bed was made of literal clouds. The carpet felt likeit lifted her feet up with every step. The refrigerator door had a camera on it that showed the inside for some unfathomable rich person convenience reason.
In short, everything in this house was so far beyond her realm of understanding that it felt alien. The only thing keeping it semi-normal was Des himself.
The casual opulence of his life, combined with bountiful orgasms and a spontaneous dinner invitation from his sister, was overwhelming enough that it proved the distraction Cami had been looking for earlier that evening when she’d received his text. But the later it got, the more obvious it became that she just didn’t want to go back to her apartment. She wasn’t ready to be there yet. She’d made it her space as much as possible, but everything in it save her laptop, her clothing, and the miscellany she’d accumulated over the last year, belonged to Lenny. The bed she slept on, the oven she cooked with, the table she ate at. It was immature and spiteful of her, but returning there was like forgiving the betrayal.
But she couldn’t very well stay here. It had happened once, but that had been an accident. And though they’d decided to keep sleeping together, they hadn’t come to a decision about dinner with his family. That was a huge elephant in the room they needed to take care of before anything else.
Eventually she convinced herself to turn off the various shower heads and towel dry. She squeezed most of the water out of her hair, but opted not to wrap it in a turban because she and Des weren’t at the point yet where he needed to see that. Then, burritoing herself in his overlarge robe, she emerged from the en suite bathroom to find him propped up against his headboard, delectably bare down to his waist, where the bed sheet had gathered, tapping away on his phone.
“Very important business texting?” She lowered herself onto the bed, crawled her way up to the head of it, and flopped down onto a free pillow.
“Always,” he replied, and tilted his phone screen toward her to show off the animation celebrating a winning game of solitaire. He grinned, then ducked to press a quick kiss to her mouth. “Good shower?”
“Heavenly. I could live in there. You could charge me rent.”
He cocked his head, considering. “I think we could work something out. I could be a very generous landlord.”
“I’m sure.” He lifted his arm to make space for her, and she shuffled over to him, stretching one arm across the warm plane of his abdomen. “Hey, so we didn’t decide about dinner with your family.”
“That’s true.” He didn’t sound bothered by this, and had taken up a damp strand of her hair between his fingers, twisting the end. “I got distracted when you sat on my lap and started seducing me.”
She smirked and turned her face into his chest to hide it. “Do you want me to come or not? I won’t be offended if you don’t. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”
He cupped her shoulder through his robe and gave a little squeeze. “It’s up to you, Cami. It would be a lot of pressure even if we were dating. My family isn’t big, but they’re a lot to handle, and I haven’t dated seriously in...a while. If you come, they’ll be on you like white on rice.” He paused, dragging a thumb along the line of her arm.
“You haven’t taken anybody home to Mom in a while?” she prompted.
He had played his personal life close to his chest, and while she didn’t blame him for it, she couldn’t say she hadn’t developed a healthy curiosity about his romantic background. It came with the territory.
“Never, actually. Or not since high school, anyway.” He shrugged, and when he hesitated, the urge to nudge him into elaborating was almost overwhelming. He did sort of give off ‘rich, fancy playboy’ vibes at first, but the more time she spent with him, the more she became convinced that he wasn’t the type to bounce from bed partner to bed partner. They hadn’t been fooling around for very long, but he’d shown no signs or inclinations toward sleeping with anyone else. Though, that said, she wasn’t worldly enough to spot any but the most obvious signs.
Luckily, her patience was all the nudge he needed. “I’ve only had one serious relationship before. It was a few years ago and didn’t end well, but even when I was with her, I didn’t take her to meet my parents. It was...complicated.”
That was just too juicy to pass up. “Complicated how?” His chest was warm against her cheek, his heart beating steadily into her ear. Her fingers tightened against his side, giving him a gentle squeeze.
He sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position. “Well, she was married, for one thing. And sort of my boss, for another.”
“Yikes.” She cringed. She didn’t know what she’d been imagining, but that wasn’t it. “We don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather not.” The subject should have made him tense, but his tone was even and light, as though discussing it didn’t affect him. He didn’t hesitate in his hair stroking; his fingers kept moving rhythmically through her hair like it wasn’t dampening his bathrobe and pillowcase.
“No, it’s okay. It was a long time ago. I’m not upset about it.” He paused, considering. “Well, not actively, anyway. I was interning at my dad’s hospital—did I mention he’s Chief of Surgery at Santa Monica Medical Center?—and Madilyn was one of the attendings. She wasn’t directly my boss, but wedid work together in situations where she performed that role. I won’t bore you with the details, but she was beautiful and accomplished, and told me everything that I, as a legacy intern with a lot to prove, wanted to hear. How talented I was, how nepotism had nothing to do with my accomplishments. You get the idea.”
It was so easy to envision Des like that; young and thirsty to prove himself. All bright gray eyes and the need to help people, to believe the best in others. There were remnants of that in him now, but it was older, more mature and tempered. She wondered how much of that was the result of the natural aging process and how much was Madilyn.
“Before you ask,” he continued, “yes, I knew she was married. She would bring me coffee sometimes and talk about her marital issues, how her husband complained about her work hours but neglected her when she was home, and just didn’t understand her.” He rolled his eyes then as though remembering how naïve he’d been. “I was too enamored to see it for the bait it was. I just wanted to be the man who would understand her, treat her the way she deserved. It never occurred to me what she was doing. That she was getting close to me because of who I was, that she was hoping I’d talk her up to my dad. She was angling to replace him when he retired.”
“Oh, Des.” The sympathetic breath whooshed out of her as Cami looked up at him. He met her gaze just for a second, registered the expression on her face, and tilted his head back with an exhale. “I’m so sorry.”
