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When he slipped inside her, she wrapped her arms around him, savored every stroke as they moved together, climbing higher until she called out his name and crested. He followed a moment later, his groan of satisfaction reverberating throughout her body.
Yet as they lay together, she couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t press a kiss to her forehead, didn’t let his hand drift down to rest possessively on her stomach. Even though he relaxed right next to her, she felt the distance between them widen a fraction more.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THEPLATESGLEAMEDon top of silver chargers. A lone red rose stood proud in a glass bud vase, the petals unfurled so perfectly it could have been captured in a photograph. A light wind blew in off the river and made the flames of the votive candles flicker. The scent of clams steamed in butter, white wine and garlic wafted from one of the silver-covered platters on the side table.
It was perfect.
So why, Damon mused as he shoved his hands into his pockets and stood at the edge of the balcony,do I feel hollow?
They’d spent most of Saturday in the house, curled up in front of a roaring fire as a morning spring rain had chilled the air outside. They’d made love on the rug before lunch, then again in the lavish bed after. She was like a drug in his system. If she wasn’t in the room, he was wondering where she was. If she was by his side, he was contemplating how soon would be too soon to take her into his arms again.
Then there had been the library. The rain had continued through the afternoon. He’d shown her the library, an enchanting room with gleaming pine bookshelves that stretched up nearly twenty feet, plump cream-colored chairs and couches that encouraged one to sink into their depths and read. Evolet had picked a mystery, he a science-fiction epic, and they had sunk down onto the couch, reading with her legs draped across his knees as the rain pattered softly on the windows.
There had been no heat, no foreplay, no sex. They’d simply existed together in mutual contentment. She’d practiced her cello after dinner before the fire. Had she noticed the difference in her own playing, he wondered, or was he imagining it himself? The newfound sensualness of how she held the cello between her thighs, the confidence in her hands as she drew the bow across the strings? Every move had been amplified, every note ringing with passion instead of the sadness he’d heard the night of the fundraiser, the bitterness of regret and loss when she’d played for him in his office.
Part of him wanted to end things now. He’d thought this weekend would be enough—one last fling before ending it.
Just one more night.
He refocused on the moment at hand. His grandfather had picked an incredible spot to build his retreat. The river sparkled like a jewel as the sun slowly sank behind the mountains to the west. Red oak and sugar maple trees jutted proudly from the slopes and rises of the Catskills. Bursting with green leaves, they would turn in the autumn to burgundy, orange and amber, a rich display that set the hills on fire.
He wanted to ask Evolet to come back with him, to lie with him under a blanket on the balcony and gaze out over the river, then turn to each other as darkness settled and the air turned cool.
His fingers curled into fists. He’d known from the moment she’d stepped out of the limo and onto the tarmac at the helipad that he was risking far too much by indulging in this weekend with her. But God help him, he’d been too weak to resist.
The same weakness that whispered to him that this could continue beyond tomorrow. That they could continue this affair and he could bring her back with him in the fall.
No.
He was fortunate he hadn’t a repeat of the nightmare he’d experienced when they’d returned from Bali, although he attributed that to reclaiming the reigns he normally held tightly on his control. Another example of how opening himself up would only lead to trouble.
He had never been vulnerable to another human being after his parents had died. He’d wrapped himself up in work, used it to help him focus and eventually move on from their deaths. Each success of Bradford Global had brought respite, had healed him as he worked to preserve his family’s legacy, to honor his father’s memory and the trust his father had placed in his son. Numbers, contracts, output—these were tangible results, ones achieved with the right initiative, hard work. Measurable results that kept him grounded.
Emotion offered no such stability. The slightest indulgence of feelings opened the door to the utter loss, the bone-deep grieving that had threatened to render him catatonic in the days after the accident.
Emotion could be incredible, a high unlike any other.
It could also spell doom, pulling one into a pit so deep it would be almost impossible to climb out of. He’d barely clawed himself out of depression before. He couldn’t risk being on the brink of such loss again.
More importantly than that, Evolet deserved better than what he could give. In the weeks they’d been together, she’d blossomed. How long could she keep growing, keep rising above her own pains and insecurities if all he did was drag her back down into the dark?
A sailboat rounded the bend, white fabric billowing under the spring breeze as it sailed between the two falls of mountains that sloped down to the river. Damon watched the boat, remembered the look of sheer pleasure on Evolet’s face as he’d taken her out on the speedboat this afternoon, watched her hair whip in the breeze as she’d taken the wheel and laughed.
Yes, it was best to follow the original plan and end things tomorrow on their way back to New York City. He would have memories of this weekend, of their mind-blowing affair and the incredible gift she had given him to warm him in the coming months and years.
The rational pep talk did little to soothe the tempest churning inside his chest.
He knew the moment she stepped onto the balcony even though she hadn’t made a sound. He breathed in deeply, steadied himself and turned.
And felt like fate punched him in the gut.
She stood framed in the doorway, her hair tumbling over bare shoulders in loose waves. Vivid red clung to her torso, strips of material wrapped around her arms like a lover’s hands, while the skirt flared out and down to her knees. Her feet were bare, an erotic contrast to the romantic sweetness of her dress.
“Hi.”
After the many times they’d made love, after they’d tasted each other, she could still sound breathless like she was seeing him for the first time. Her eyes sparkled like the tiny diamonds at her ears, the only jewelry she wore.
