"Are you still close to your parents?"
He nodded. "Yeah. For parents, they're pretty damn awesome."
"Do you ever think about pursuing finance as a career? Going to college to get a degree? It's never too late."
He stiffened, and I knew I'd overstepped. Damn, why was I hurt? We hadn't agreed to anything but sleeping together, and I still didn't know what I was going to do about Phillip. I was a complete mess, and he owed me nothing.
As if he sensed my hurt, he kissed me. "Maybe I just want to concentrate on analyzing you. Every delicious inch of that slamming body."
I gave into the kiss and allowed him the space. "And maybe I just got all hot and bothered imagining you on Wall Street."
He pulled back a few inches and studied my face. "What turns you on about Wall Street?" he asked.
"Something about a man in a power suit."
His eyes flamed, and he carefully put down his wine. "Not much I can do about the suit. But I can talk dirty."
"Dirty?"
"Oh, yeah. How about I force you to recite financial data while I try to make you come?"
"Don't you dare."
But the thought had already sparked between us, and damned if that didn't get me soaking wet just thinking about him getting all sexy and dominant. There was only one thing left to do.
With a girly squeal, I jumped up and ran off the deck, heading for safety into one of the rooms. He was right behind me, swinging me easily into his arms then taking my mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. I surrendered, tangling my tongue with his and giving him everything I had.
And I planned to keep on doing it for as long as I could.
Chapter Sixteen
HOLDEN
I WASN'T SURE WHEN OUR RELATIONSHIP began to change. Maybe it'd happened so gradually I didn't notice, or maybe I'd known the moment I kissed her and was in denial. As the days passed and we fell into a lazy summer routine, time took on a whole new meaning.
Suddenly, hanging with Brian, and partying at night, and relaxing before I was forced to go into one of the most competitive jobs in Manhattan, meant nothing. The moment I woke, I craved Storme like she was the only medicine that cure could my sickness.
I'd expected rules. Times we could or couldn't see each other. I prepped myself for upcoming visits from her fiance, or family, or having most of her schedule bogged down by wedding details I didn't want to know about.
Instead, we spent most of the days together, along with nights. I'd finally met Kelsey and Leigh and liked them immediately. They seemed to like me, too, which made me hope her fiance was an asshole and they were happy to see Storme with me instead. Somehow, some way, this easy summer affair had turned into more. I wanted the possibility of seeing Storme after the summer, and the idea of her marrying another man made my brain want to explode like the Hulk and smash everything in sight. How could I allow her to say vows of forever to another man who'd never satisfy her the way she needed? Eventually, she'd fade away and become a shell of the woman I knew, the woman who burned up under my touch, and laughed too loud, and stunned me with her vibrant aura of sexual energy.
But I was holding back.
I still hadn't confessed I had a proper job and would be moving to the city. At first, I didn't want to tell her I was more than a beach bum. I hadn't wanted to deal with expectations of anything other than a summer affair. And I loved the idea of her thinking I was a beach bum, dreamer, and free spirit.
Unfortunately, I was now screwed. It felt too late to tell her I was an up-and-coming Wall Street executive with a Masters degree. If I told her the truth now, she'd be pissed. Feel betrayed. It'd ruin the rest of our summer together, along with the bond of trust that had been forming. No. I'd tell her later, at the end of the summer.
A knock sounded on the door. I wiped my sweaty palms down my shorts. Trying not to be completely humiliated that at this point in my life, some girl made my fucking palms sweat, I opened the door. The girl in question stood there. Her beautiful, tanned face glowed, and a warm smile curved her full lips. My heart hammered. She wore a pair of white pants and a shiny black tank top with little fringes that swayed back and forth, outlining the swell of her breasts. She smelled like fresh flowers and ripe oranges.
"Hi."
"Hi."
We gazed at each other with goofy looks before I finally pulled myself together. "Come on in."
She handed me a bottle of the red wine she loved from her vineyard and followed me inside. Brian had given me free rein of the house for our date tonight. I'd tried my hand at making dinner, just wanting to spend the night alone without crazy music and crowds and drinking.
"I'm impressed."
I grabbed a bottle opener and two glasses. "With Brian's house? Or that I'm cooking for you?"
Her dark eyes sparkled. "Both. I've known Brian for a long time, but we were never close enough to visit each other's houses. What are you cooking?"
Horror suddenly filled me. Had she ever eaten a steak with me? "Please tell me you're not a vegetarian."
She laughed. "God, no. Now I'm getting excited. For the record, I like my meat rare, thick, and very, very juicy."
My dick sprang to life, and the witch knew it. Shit, anything she said, I seemed to find erotic. No woman had ever affected me on such a basic, primitive level. "Good to know. Any other requests?"
She licked her lips, and then I knew she was playing me. "A good, crusty bread with a warm interior. I like to lick the butter off it with my tongue."
My fingers closed around the opener. The blood constricted and flew only in one direction, and it wasn't my brain. "Huh. Interesting."
She began pacing to explore the room, her hips swinging back and forth, her long, slender arms reaching out to finger a knick-knack or caress the rich wood of the furniture. "And mashed potatoes, of course. Hmmm, just the thought of those creamy, whipped potatoes melting in my mouth? Soooo. Good." She moaned low, and moved her fingers to her body, slowly stroking her breasts. I could clearly see the outline of one hard nipple. "Makes me all gooey inside just to think about--oh!"
I'd had enough.
I yanked her up in my arms then deposited her on the polished pine table. This time I was well prepared, with condoms in my pocket and my bedroom. Without pause, I jerked her crisp, white pants down her hips till they pooled on the floor, then gaped in surprise.
"You're not wearing any panties," I said like a dummy.
A faint blush bloomed on her cheeks. "I couldn't. When you wear white, you show panty lines, and my thongs are in the wash, so I had no choice."
"I think I went to a place better than heaven." I groaned. My hands skated over her silky thighs, down her knees, over her calves. She still wore her strappy black sandals I didn't intend to take off.
"Will dinner burn?"
"Not as much as me. Spread your legs, sugar." She blushed deeper but obeyed. I smirked as I saw she was already wet and ready for me. "Now it's time to get you back for the mashed potato comment."
I sank to my knees and worshipped her. She dug her nails into my scalp, wriggling on the table as I tasted, feasted, licked, nibbled. Her clit begged for my attention, but I took my time, loving her cries and the way she burned up in my arms. With Storme, there was no game-playing or surface niceties. She was shy, not embarrassed, and her body was made to be taken several times a day.
Finally, I let my fingers rub her clit in slow circles until she wept my name. Knowing she was at the edge, I pushed her toward climax, then yanked her back until she rocked her hips with frank abandon and went crazy in my arms.
Thrusting my fingers into her soaked channel, I closed my lips around her clit and sucked hard.
She came in my mouth, and I had to hold her body down on the table as she writhed with the pleasure. I continued, slowly licking her with gentler strokes as she coasted back down, and as whimpers broke from her lips, I unzipped my pants, donned the condom, then dragged her halfway off the table.
Eyes wide and hazy f
rom her climax, she locked her gaze on mine as I pushed my dick into her slick, swollen flesh. Burying deep, I fought for control, not wanting the moment to end, then began thrusting slow and steady. She took the ride with me, matching my pace, and then we were coming together and my head exploded with light, and my hips jerked helplessly as I spilled my seed.
It took us a while to rouse ourselves enough to speak. "I really wanted to feed you first," I said.
"I think you did," she teased, "but now I need food."
I helped her off the table, let her redress, and then served the meal. The porterhouse steaks were rare with perfect grill marks and the bread was crusty, but I'd served steamed broccoli instead of potatoes because I knew Storme was also careful about what she ate.
"You really can cook," she said in between bites. "It's delicious, Holden. Did your mom teach you?"
"Actually, my father was the chef in my household. King of the barbeque, of course. I've learned I could pretty much do anything with a grill."
"I love cooking, too," Storme said. "At home, we'd have huge family gatherings with wine pairings to introduce the new labels. I like experimenting with food to show off their different flavors, and how it can change with the right wine."
"So you like the vineyard?" I tried to be casual, but I was curious as to why she'd turn her back on her dream to be a designer. She'd sold all her bags to the boutique in town, and the owner wanted more. I knew with her talent and drive, she'd be a huge success.
"It's my home. It's a part of me."
"But you still don't want to go to FIT?"
She concentrated on her food for a while, gathering her thoughts. Her voice was a low whisper of sound. "I do want to go."
"You said it was more complicated than I thought. Why can't you follow your own dream, Storme?"
Her fingers tightened around her fork. I waited for her to tell me it was none of my business and close down the subject. Instead, she slowly looked up. "I tried. I know that sounds lame to you, but I tried many times to tell my parents what I really wanted. If I accept admission to FIT, my family would lose something priceless. Our legacy. The vineyard has been passed from generation to generation, and there's always one person in the family who works it full-time. I'm the only one left. My parents need to know the vineyard will remain in the family."
"Is that why you're marrying him?"
I couldn't say his name. He was an invisible wall between us, an excruciating obstacle to true intimacy with her. We were passing this summer in pure denial, but time was running out.
Her breath came out shaky, but she gave it to me straight. "Yes. The merger of our two vineyards will secure the future of our families. It's been both our parents' dream since we were young."
"Is he worth sacrificing everything?" I ripped out. "Is that the type of love you want for the rest of your life? You're trapping yourself in a fake life, Storme! Dammit, you are so much braver than that. Yes, it will blow things up, and your parents will be upset, but at least you'll have a real life, a shot at your dream."
"Let's not do this now," she begged. "We only have two weeks left."
"Is that what you want?" I asked. My voice and my heart felt like lead. "You want to just follow this through to the bitter end? Sleeping with each other? Keeping our relationship a secret? Ending it the day before your wedding until we both can't remember if it was real or just a hallucination?"
I hated the tears that shimmered in her eyes, but I was too hurt to soothe her. I was such a dick. She'd given me everything I'd demanded. We decided on a summer fling--no more, no less. Yet here I was, asking for more. More than she was capable of giving me.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I hate myself. I should end this now, walk out the door, before we destroy each other. But--"
She stopped. Her body shook as if in a fever. "But?"
"I don't want to. I can't. I need you too badly, and I'll take anything you give me. Any last crumb so I can remember it for the rest of my life."
The frustration and anger curled within me. I stood up, pushing my hands through my hair, then paced. We were playing for much higher stakes. How could we win? There were only losers in this game. Me. Storme. Her fiance. Her parents. For God's sake, I was moving to the city in a few weeks, and she didn't even know I had a career that would soon occupy my every minute. This was no time for me to fall in love.
"Tell me to go!" she pleaded. "Tell me to get out, and I will."
"I can't!" I roared back. "I need you just as badly!"
Somehow, we both stumbled toward each other. Falling into her arms, I kissed away her tears, rocking her gently as I carried her into my bedroom.
"I'll take whatever I can get right now," I growled in her ear. The door shut behind me. "Just give me everything you got. Give yourself completely to me."
She kissed me slow and deep. "I already have."
We didn't talk after that.
Chapter Seventeen
STORME
I WAS GOING TO DO IT.
I was going to FIT.
The phone shook in my hand, but I'd already made my decision. The last night with Holden had reminded me I did have a choice, and I needed to choose. Continue on the path set by my parents or carve out my own. It wouldn't be easy, but at least it would be honest.
I dialed my mother's number and waited. After a series of clicks, her gravelly voice rumbled through the phone in all its familiar comfort.
"Darling! I've been waiting for you to call and check in. Have I been wrong to leave you and your girlfriends to tear up the Hamptons without chaperones? I hope you're not getting into too much trouble," she teased.
My mouth dried up. Umm, not really, Mom. Just abandoning the family business. Oh, and having an affair.
Shit.
I found some saliva and spoke. "Umm, Mom, I wanted to talk to you about something really serious. I wish I could tell you in person, and I think this may come as a big shock, but I really need you to be patient and listen to me."
A short silence hummed over the line. Then my mother went into her serious voice. Her business voice. Her no-nonsense, no-disaster-will-happen-on-my-watch voice. Megan Sullivan was hardcore when it came to her business, but when it came to her daughter, she was scary as hell.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine."
She sighed. "Thank God. I adore California, and this trip has been crucial to Drink It In Style, but I miss you. So does Phillip. We're ready to come home, celebrate a wonderful wedding, and toast a bright future. What do you need to talk about, darling?"
Double shit. "Mom, remember I told you I received full admission into the Fashion Institute for fall enrollment?"
Mom spoke warily. "Yes. We told you how proud we were of you, and then you said you turned them down, of course. I'm sure there will be plenty of times in your life you'll be able to sew and create your designs. Especially before Harvest."
"I didn't turn it down, Mom. I lied. I've been thinking about it endlessly. I'm up at night, feeling horrible and guilty for wanting something different than what you want for me. But, I can't--I can't do this anymore. I'm breaking apart."
"Storme, you're scaring me. Darling, what's the matter? What's the problem?"
"I don't want to run the vineyard. I want to go to FIT this fall. And I don't know if I'll be marrying Phillip."
The horrible words were out. I trembled with the force of my emotions, but at the same time, a lightness flooded my body. It was done. I had given voice to the words I dreaded. The doubts I struggled with every night. The ache in my gut that warned me I was making the biggest mistake of my life by giving it over to someone else to direct. I may be a horrible person, but at least I finally owned my actions.
I waited for a while. Mom liked to sift through her thoughts and be careful of her responses. How often had she advised me to take a step back in volatile situations and breathe? Oxygen to the brain or something like that. It was also a powerful mind game that worked well with opponen
ts.
Of course, I wasn't her opponent. Just her daughter.
Her voice gentled. "Storme, I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I left you alone during the most important summer of your life to handle all the details of the wedding. You must be stressed and confused and have a massive case of bridal jitters. After all, you're young! You're a passionate young woman, and the thought of settling down with one man and a future already planned out must be putting you in panic mode. I'm getting on the next plane and will be there by tomorrow. Phillip will come. We'll all talk it through, calm down, and move forward."
I wasn't surprised. I knew my mother wouldn't be easy. This wasn't the first time I'd tried to initiate my own opinions or actions, and when she disagreed, it was almost impossible to win. But I was playing for much higher stakes this time, and I would finally triumph.
"I'm sorry, Mom, it's much more than that. It's not jitters. I've spoken to Phillip, and we both agreed to take a few weeks and see if this is what we really want. As for working at the vineyards, I'm sure I can still keep myself involved on a part-time basis, but I want to work in design."
"I know you love fashion, you always have. But it's a world that's fake. Beautiful, exciting, but fake. Honey, you just graduated from Penn State with a business degree. You're so smart! You're panicking because graduation is over, and you're being hit with real life. I promise, once you start work and marry Phillip, you'll look back on this and be grateful you didn't follow your impulse. Fashion is a hobby, not a legacy to leave to your children."
I battled the softening of my defenses. God, she was a master. My father had always told me she could be President of the United States if she'd put her mind to it. "I'm not changing my mind this time. I know there will be more conversation, and I know you and Daddy will be angry. But I'm twenty-two years old. You don't want me to look back on my life with regret, do you? No business is worth that."
Another sigh spilled through the phone. It reeked of disappointment. "So, you want to walk away from your responsibility to your family to attend FIT. What about Phillip? Have you told him these great plans?"