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On my side, his movements slowed, his hands sweeping over me. Teasing. Cherishing.
My dress, fully off. His fingers, tightening in and tugging on my hair. His mouth on my nipples, the gentle scrape of teeth, suction of his tongue.
I crawled on top of him, my knees tight to his sides, his wet fingers dragging over my breasts, then gripping my hips. He pulled me down to his chest, wrapped his arms around me, and his hips took over our movements. That orgasm was the best, the longest, the highest. He rolled on top of me, growled out my name, and let himself come.
He was gorgeous when he came. That heat, that light in his eyes, flared. There was a moment of vulnerability, of raw and unprotected emotion. He grunted, his legs trembled, his hands tightened. It was long, and I could feel his cock flex, felt the warmth of his release through the condom, and I squeezed my body around him in response.
“I love you.” I whispered the confession, and he rolled to his side, pulling me to his chest, his cock still inside me, and I felt his heart, the strong thump and hammer of it. His body was such an engine, a force of sexual nature, built to please and—in this moment—all mine. I relaxed my cheek against his chest, my legs sliding down, his intertwining around them.
“I love you, too.” His fingers trailed over my bare back, and he lifted his head, pressing his lips to my hair. “I don’t ever want another man to have you.”
I think he meant physically, but emotionally, he was the only man who had ever truly had me. Would he be the only one who ever would?
I closed my eyes and couldn’t, in that moment, find anything to say.
Thirty
DARIO
He drove, his hand resting on the back of her seat, and glanced at her. She was curled up, her sweatshirt stuffed under her head, asleep. She looked so innocent. Innocent and brave. Giving that vulnerable and delicate heart and love to him. He had to protect her, take the trust she gave him and fulfill it.
An easier thing to want than deliver. Fuck, he was in one hell of a situation—pulled in different directions by two incredible women. One held his heart and his cock in her delicate grasp. The other held his head and his past in her fist. Gwen wouldn’t let go easily. She would fight for him, for them. She would remind him of every promise he’d ever made and hold him to them.
Fuck. He rubbed his hand over his face and picked up his phone, then set it back down. Changed his mind again and sent Gwen a quick text message, letting her know he was on his way back. She replied quickly, asking about dinner, and he confirmed. There. A date set. Him and Gwen. It was time to tell her everything and hear her thoughts on the matter.
He’d been married to the woman for a decade but suddenly, with the dinner looming, he was lost at what to expect.
* * *
THE FAILURE
Claudia chewed at the edge of one nail, watching the back of the minivan as it changed lanes. This had been a complete waste of a trip, and Robert had been less than enthusiastic on their last call. The disappointment had been hard in his voice, each question another stab in her gut.
Why had they left mid-dinner? She didn’t know.
Why hadn’t Bell stayed at the hotel when Dario had met with the show runners? She didn’t know.
Had she been in the meeting with him? She couldn’t say. The talent office hadn’t let her follow them up the elevator, wanting her driver’s license and authorization from someone inside.
She had done her best, and it hadn’t been enough. There hadn’t been an opening, the couple glued together like lovesick idiots.
She turned up the air conditioning. She hadn’t told Robert about their behavior together, afraid the details would anger him further. The way that Dario looked at her, the way he constantly touched her, pulling her into his side and kissing the top of her head … it had made Claudia sick. Dario was married to Gwen. Devoted to Gwen. He was supposed to be in love with Gwen.
It was a wrong that needed to be righted. First, by Bell Hartley’s death. And then? She tore off a piece of her cuticle and wondered what further punishment Robert would bring down on Dario Capece.
She glanced down at the notebook where she’d written down the code that Robert had given her. 04182996#. He’d gone into The Majestic’s reservation system and pulled the access for suite 908.
It was probably better, killing Bell there. The Majestic was a controlled environment, one Robert could get her full access to. He would be able to kill security cameras and see housekeeping schedules. She would have privacy and less witnesses than at Taco Bell.
