Manwhore +1

  I cry freely now. “I love you, Malcolm.”

  “Do you really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  He frames my jaw in wide, warm hands, tilting me to his line of sight as he dries my face. “The first time I heard it, I couldn’t think of anything else. Even when all the shit came down, I’d think of those three words. I’ve loved you for a while, Rachel. All the fortune I’ve amassed and I’d never wanted to lay it out there for someone the way I want to lay it out there for you.

  “You wanted your world to go still, stand still with me. I may be thirsty, ambitious; I’ll charge out there, but this . . . what we have. Let’s stand still here, you and me.”

  My throat closes when I remember what I told him before. I’ve never been held like this by anyone else. I’ve never had a man’s arms around me in comfort, making me feel so utterly safe. I never imagined that I could stand in the middle of the storm that is Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint, and truly feel like my world is finally becoming still.

  His smile.

  His. Damn. Smile.

  I forget its effect on me.

  My stomach is in a wild swirl.

  “Malcolm,” breathlessly, I stare. “You’d do this for me?”

  “I’d do more.”

  A silence full of meaning falls between us. I want to say so many things but I can’t find my precious words. His actions won over this time, for real.

  “I love you, Malcolm.”

  “And I love you, Rachel. Very much.”

  My throat closes. “Hold me for a hot second.”

  He already is holding me as he whispers, “I’ll hold you for four.” Then, in my ear, he adds gruffly, “Go home and think about this—”

  “Yes,” I cut him off, and this time it’s me who grabs him by the collar and kisses the fuck out of him.

  “I’ve got to get back to work. Let me take you to dinner?” he asks me.

  “I’ve used up all my no’s with you,” I say quietly, kissing him as I speak.

  He kisses me as he speaks too, voice husky with male pride. “So it’s another yes.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Not good enough, Rachel. Say it.”

  I laugh. “Yes, greedy man. You freaking woman-wizard. Yes, yes yes!”

  That evening I call my ex-coworkers and tell them if they’re leaving Edge—I want them with me. I’m having lunch with a few of them next week, including Valentine and Sandy. Then I talk to Gina and we call Wynn.

  “Rachel!” is all Wynn can say. “I’m . . .”

  “Speechless, I know. This dude leaves me speechless all the fucking time now,” Gina jumps in to say.

  I sit here speechless too, or rather wordless, feeling warm and fuzzier than my socks. They’re both getting hung up on the fact that he’s supporting me and my dreams. I’m hung up on the fact that—despite his upbringing, loving his variety in women and business ventures, and the fact that it seemed fairly impossible to do—I’m very, very sure that Saint loves me.

  When Malcolm arrives, I’m wearing a little black dress and ballet flats, my hair down and hardly any lipstick.

  The door of his Pagani Huayra flies open, and he holds my hand as I slip inside, and soon we’re speeding off.

  “Hey,” I ask. “How was your day?”

  “Good now.”

  He reaches out to give me a brief, but delish corner kiss, and I reach out to take his hand after he changes gears, leaving it there.

  We go to a private room at a five-star restaurant called Tableau. Behind a set of velvet curtains, we’re alone, just Sin and I, talking about today. I guess I’m the one talking the most, but he’s listening to me like he always does with a charmed amusement that spears into my heart and melts me.

  “I called my ex-coworkers. I told them if they’re leaving Edge—I want them with me.”

  “Your mother?”

  “I haven’t told her yet.”

  “You realize she can hand-paint your covers if you wanted her to?”

  “Yes. And I do want her to.”

  He sits across the table from me and I just want to lean over and eat him up with kisses. I feel cherished. Protected. Safe.

  “I’m so excited.”

  I laugh lightly while his boldly handsome face smiles warmly across the table. I love when his full lips soften with humor and his part-smile, part-smirk goes all the way to light up his eyes.

  “So your father has officially bought Edge?”

  He nods.

  “You knew he wouldn’t back down to you.”

  “He’s as proud as me. He told you he’d win, didn’t he?” He leans back and eyes me quietly. “He was obsessed with my mother. They were perfectly in love until I arrived. He couldn’t stand that his perfect wife gave him an imperfect son. He resented that she became protective of me. She loved me more than him. He didn’t take it well.”

  “I never knew.” I look at him.

  “Now I know.”

  “What?”

  “What he felt. That I’d do anything for you. Fuck over anyone to protect you. Do anything to keep you. Crush the world for you. My mother’s gone but he still wants to prove he’s better than me. Prove to her how wrong she was to choose me over him. She asked for a divorce but he never let her go.”

  “It would’ve been hard. For a mother like yours not to love you hard. Especially if you were stuck with your dad.”

  “I fared well.” He smirks.

  “You did,” I say lovingly. I think he notices the longing inside me.

  “Come over here.”

  He reaches out for my hand over the table and tugs me around with the lazy confidence of a guy who knows—with certainty—he’s getting laid tonight.

  “I like this smile,” he says as I carefully sit on his lap. I laugh lightly. “And this laugh.”

  The lights are low. They shine on Malcolm as he moves the little M and R necklaces at the bottom of my throat and sets a kiss on my pulse point.

  “Are we to be each other’s desserts?” I ask him.

  God. I sound so hopeful I laugh after.

  The lively twinkle in his eye makes me think that he’s planning something wicked. “You’re definitely mine.”

  He dips his index finger into his wine.

  “What are you up to, Sin?” I chide and before I can say more, he’s dipping his finger into my mouth.

  Leaning over, he follows his finger with his kiss.

  I lick his finger. “You’ve liked doing this since the wine tasting.”

  “You have no idea.”

  He shifts me on his lap, and looks at me lazily through half-closed lids.

  He tugs my dress upward to my hips and slips his hand into the warmth between my inner thighs. My body jolts pleasurably at the touch of his fingers stroking me softly.

  I’m nervous someone will come in, but he’s looking at me with such heated mischief, I can’t resist him.

  I put my lips on his neck, my fingertips roaming the flat planes of his chest. The muscles harden under my fingers. My mouth is trailing up to his, and I hear his groan when my fingers start going down his chest, down his abs, to spread my hand over as much of his hard-on as I can.

  And then Malcolm’s hand is easing off my ballet flats, and they fall with a clatter. He pulls one of my legs until I’m straddling him.

  He kisses the tip of my nose, then my eyes, and his mouth takes mine again in another slow, drugging kiss. I inhale as he stops to look down on me. I hold my breath, exhaling as he reaches out one hand to cup my face. And then he kisses the corner of my lips.

  “Oh god, don’t. I won’t last if you do that.”

  “Why . . .”

  I inhale sharply, then hold my breath as he slides his lips across mine and to the other corner of my mouth. My lungs strain as I hold my breath, savoring the ghost kiss until he eases back.

  Our eyes connect. My lips tingle from his kiss. I exhale shakily, reaching out to cup his jaw. And I do exactly what he did. I brush m
y lips to the corner of his mouth. I hear him inhale too, deep and hard. Exhale when I ease back. Green eyes shimmer with desire and need and things he hasn’t said to me but maybe I don’t need him to. I don’t need him to at all. I lean forward and press my lips to the other edge of his mouth. But he cheats. He cups the back of my head to hold me still and turns a fraction of an inch so he can capture my kiss with his lips.

  I try to edge back, very aware that the waiter will soon be returning and I need to go back to my seat.

  “Did you mess up my lipstick?”

  “What lipstick?”

  I laugh, and Saint chuckles and holds my hand over the table as I return to my seat.

  “I like this laugh,” he says, his thumb stroking over the back of mine. “I like this laugh very much.”

  He wants me to spend the weekend with him, so we stop by my place. We’ll be hitting The Toy and doing lunch somewhere he wants to take me to, by the lake.

  Gina is panicking when she sees me come home one minute and come out to the living room the next. “You have a bag? A big bag?” she asks, wide-eyed as she stares at the bag slung over my shoulder.

  “It’s only one comfortable pair of shoes, Gina, for the gym in his building. One for going out. And one for the office. And my toothbrush, and just a few more things. I’m not moving in, I’m simply being practical. He . . . he asked me to spend the weekend.”

  “Rachel . . .” she says.

  “It’s only the weekend, Gina! Maybe one or two nights a week. I’ll find a good balance,” I promise.

  “Dude, you’re making me want to get a dog. Someone who gives a shit about when I get home.”

  “I DO!” I cry, hugging her as my heart squishes a little bit. How could I not have thought of this? I’ve been so happy and I didn’t think twice about saying yes right now. “I love you, G.”

  She hugs me back in mopey silence, but then slaps my bum. “He’s out there?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know . . .” She pauses, her expression apologetic. “He’s no Paul, Rache.”

  “I know, Gina.”

  We stare at each other. We’ve never really been separated in a way that feels so . . . real for years.

  “Okay. I’ll see you Monday,” I finally tell her, heading to the door as she drops back to the couch and glares at the TV.

  “Monday is Monday, Rachel, not Tuesday or Thursday,” she threatens.

  “I know what Monday is.” I groan and laugh, as I hold the doorknob in my hands, still somehow waiting for a bigger reassurance.

  “Don’t look sad on my behalf, I’m having an orgy while you’re away. Shit is really going to go down here now that the responsible one is gone,” she promises, but all too soon, she drops the big bad-girl act and grows serious, her expression softening. “Rache, I’m so happy for you. I love how happy he makes you. I want you to know I’m on board with this, one hundred percent.”

  My best friend. Unlike Wynn, not a lot of people like Gina. Not a lot of people get her. But I love her all the same. I come back, give her another kiss on the cheek, and leave quietly.

  “Monday,” I say.

  “Have enough sex for the both of us!” she calls.

  I come out into the evening breeze, swinging the bag with my things behind my shoulder.

  And there he is, leaning against his car, arms crossed, wearing this most perfect smile.

  I start forward and I’m truly breathless. I walk up to him and he meets me halfway. His smile, when he sees me, is the kind that stops traffic. And now it stops my heart. This man renders women stupid and I’m officially the most affected, because I’ve been seeing a lot of his smiles today. And I’ve been smiling a lot too.

  I’m smiling now, a smile that receives a kiss from his smiling mouth as he helps me into his car.

  The elevator doors close behind us seconds after we reach his penthouse. The city lights twinkle outside, and it looks so perfectly peaceful and happy as he lifts me in his arms.

  Locking my legs around his hips, I grab his shirt collar and let my lips wander up his jaw in search of his. “I’m hungry,” I breathe.

  “Open your mouth then,” he says. He wets my lips with his tongue for a moment before drawing back to look at me with fierce eyes. “That what you want?”

  I nod and wrap my arms around his neck. He rubs his nose into my hair and inhales deeply, then drags his nose down mine and starts kissing me. He crushes me between the wall and him, and reaches to slide his hands under my dress. I feel his fingers caressing my flesh, up to my bra, and I hear him unhook it.

  I’m shaking as he frees me, and then he takes my dress in one hand and pulls it over my head in one smooth yank.

  I fist his T-shirt in my hand and tug, and he helps me, grabbing it in one fist and pulling it over his head. His hair ends up even more mussed than usual, and he looks so sexy that my airway constricts, and I can hardly talk as I rub his smooth skin with my fingertips.

  “Malcolm.” I dive to lick a beautiful brown nipple while rubbing the other one.

  I cling as he lifts me up in his arms and carries me to the bedroom, our mouths never unlatching. He doesn’t carry me elegantly like Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind, because I’m not as hard-to-get as Scarlett, but he carries me with his hands on my ass and my legs around his hips, his delicious hard bulge pressing to the apex between my thighs as his mouth works on mine. My body trembles with his nearness and my mind races at the mere thought of us heading straight toward our happily ever after.

  “Fuck me fast.” He sets me down on the bed and I stretch my arms over my head, moving sensually to tempt him. “Fast, then slow.”

  “Shh. My bed, my rules. Strip the shoes and those tiny panties.” He unbuckles his belt, and at the sight of his sculptured body, I’m dying.

  He is perfection. He looks impenetrable in a business suit, as if nothing can touch him. But naked, he’s a god, all tanned, toned chest muscles. Dark hair rumpled from my hands, those green eyes liquid. He’s everything I never knew I wanted and more.

  My mouth waters as I edge back in bed and watch him unbuckle.

  He watches me too, and I get a sense of both weakness and power as I start to take off my panties in slow, teasing movements of my legs, loving the way he watches me kick them in the air.

  He looks at me with a smile that slowly turns wolfish.

  Something about me giving him everything, my every wall shattered, seems to make him more possessive. Before I know it, he’s spread my thighs apart and is licking between my legs, his big, beautiful muscles bulging between my parted thighs.

  Reveling, I pump my hips up to his mouth, every flash of his tongue knotting me up. I clench my teeth as I try to hold back my orgasm for a little longer. I’m about to combust when he raises his head and looks at me heavy-lidded.

  “I love you, Rachel.” The hard emotion on his face as he looks down at me is so powerful, I shudder to my core. He strokes his hand up my side so that he can touch his thumb to the corner of my mouth. “I love you like nothing else in my life.”

  “I just melt when you say it.”

  He laughs softly, and I lie here and smile, feeling like goo.

  His mouth covers mine, his kiss gentle and loving as he spreads over me. He fills my mouth with his tongue and my body jerks from the pleasure, watching him above me. I’ve never seen a guy look at me that way before, his eyes hot and proprietary and meltingly hungry.

  He slides one hand down my abdomen, circling my belly button then caressing my sex lips with his fingers, until finally sticking his middle finger inside me.

  “Malcolm,” I moan, rocking my hips and thrashing.

  He takes my mouth, and I kiss him.

  “No condom,” he murmurs, looking at me.

  No condom . . . just him and me.

  It involves a high level of trust, this thing we’re about to do. And neither of us hesitates as our lips fuse again. I grab him to me, curl my legs, and undulate welcomingly as he drives insi
de me.

  He groans as I moan and before I can climax instantly from the feel of him, he pulls out. And I’m there, shivering, suspended in the pinnacle of both physical and emotional pleasure. Gasping for air, I look at him, panting, burning, and his chest is heaving as he holds himself up on his arms above me.

  He likes prolonging. I close my eyes and savor the way he does it. His lips once again tug on my nipples then trail along my abdomen. Up my neck. He smells me. Tastes me. Relishes me. Experiences me. I grab his hair, undulating beneath his hot, hard body. Savoring him back. He’s my obsession and my addiction, the only place I feel both safe and exhilarated.

  “Sin,” I beg.

  He pulls free from my kiss and growls, “I am obsessed with you.” Then, he grabs my hips and fills me, whispering, “I adore you,” filling me completely, watching me with those smoldering green eyes I can feel in every part of me, building up a new orgasm, cupping my breasts in his hands, and bending to lick and lave both tips.

  I thrash beneath him, unsure if I can survive so much of him. So much pleasure. Such total, consuming pleasure. But I do—and he goes deeper in me.

  I sigh in relief every time he thrusts back in. Sigh his name pleadingly. He takes my mouth with his, his kiss ravenous.

  “I am . . . crazy . . . about you,” he rasps, moving in me so deep I can feel him in my heart. His face moves to my ear. “Let me own you, Rachel, and I’ll let you own me right back. You’re my lady now.” He kisses my forehead, my nose, and my lips.

  “Don’t close your eyes; look at me,” he says, and when I lift my lashes, his eyes are luminous in his face, and he’s the hottest, sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, watching me as he fucks me as if transfixed.

  He rams his hand into my hair and makes a hard fist as he moves his body over mine, pinning me down for leverage as he watches me come for him.