Hanging On (18 page)

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Authors: Michelle Zurlo

BOOK: Hanging On
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* * * *

 

Working with liquid dessert toppings was always a messy undertaking.

As a precaution, Drew covered the ottoman with a sheet of plastic, which he cleaned before setting down. He wanted nothing but the best for Sophia.

After all, she was the main course. The toppings were just for fun.

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She might play sex games all the time, but she seriously lacked the playful attitude that was supposed to mark all kinds of games. She had definitely played with him the day before when they were shooting pool. It was that attitude he wished to recreate with her today. She’d been serious from the moment she stepped through the door. Now that she was relaxed, the fun part of the day could begin.

Glancing toward the door to the bedroom, he froze. His eyes raked up and down the figure standing there. Long legs led to where hips flared before curving in at the waist, then out slightly where there were breasts of the perfect size. Drew appreciated all types of bodies, but he preferred women with smaller breasts. Sophia’s were perfect. He was glad she hadn’t taken the surgical route to achieve society’s ideal.

She watched him. The expression on her beautiful face was both sensual and curious. He was glad he’d only pulled on his boxer shorts.

“A blank canvas,” he said. “My favorite kind.” Crossing the room, she came to stand next to him. Her smile was playful. “Now you’re an artist?”

“Actually,” he said, “I nearly chose art school over pastry school.” Her head tilted to the side. “Why didn’t you?” Grasping her hands in his, he pulled her closer to drop a kiss on her lips.

“I like food a lot more than paint.” Guiding her to the ottoman, he pushed her down onto the plastic. “There are so many things you can do with food that you can’t do with paint.”

Sophia’s gaze dropped to the table, checking out the contents of the bowls before rising to meet his again. She was amused. “Such as?” He dropped another kiss on her lips. He couldn’t seem to resist. “Lie back, honey, and I’ll show you.”

Shadows of skepticism clouded her brown eyes, but she banished them quickly. He’d asked for her trust, and she was determined to make the effort.

He could see what it cost her. If he ever found the bastard who hurt her, well, it was a good thing he was wealthy. He could afford a good lawyer.

She draped her body across the length of the ottoman, lifting her chestnut hair so that it flowed over the side of the cushion. He loved her natural grace and beauty, and he adored how comfortable she was with her body and nudity in general.

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The chocolate was room temperature, but it wouldn’t solidify unless he cooled it down. He had brought white, milk, and dark chocolate, as well as whipped cream and diced fruits. Sprinkles were just for fun.

Grabbing the white chocolate, he straddled her hips. The ottoman wasn’t overly wide, and he wanted to be comfortable. Decorating always took some time if it was done well. He wanted to impress Sophia with his artistry. He might be a chef, but he was also very good with pastries. He and Ginny had built their company with sweat and talent. He wanted Sophia to know that side of him.

He started with her stomach. Her skin was a deep honey color. The white would stand out in sharp contrast. Working quickly, he used a brush to paint swirling patterns that curved upward to spiral around her breasts. On top of that, he layered the milk and dark chocolates.

Glancing up, he caught the amusement in Sophia’s eyes. The curve of her lips beckoned for another kiss. He obliged her.

“I thought you’d go straight for the nipples,” she said when he released her lips. “Or I thought maybe you’d eat it off me as you went along.” He smiled down at her. “We’ll get to that, Sophie. Are you impatient?” She raised her arms, running her hands up his chest until they rested on his shoulders. He loved the way she touched him. “When you said you wanted to dip my ass in chocolate, the picture in my head was much messier and less…deliberate.”

“I’m always deliberate with food, honey, even the kind I’m going to lick off your delicious body.” He watched the wheels turning in her head. One thing was certain with Sophia: she was always thinking, always looking for the angle.

Her hands moved to caress his pectoral muscles. “Would messy bother you, Drew?”

He laughed, a quiet sound. “Not at all, Sophie, but beauty needs beauty.

The picture in my head is an erotic feast for the palate and the senses. A true Sensual Secret.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, she shifted under him. “So, if I was ugly, you’d just dump the chocolate on me and lick it off?”

“If you were ugly, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Before she could say anything more, he kissed her, claiming her lips for something hard and deep. She needed a distraction, and he needed a taste of heaven. “I’m a
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typical male, Sophia. I wouldn’t have pursued you if I didn’t find you incredibly attractive. Your looks caught my interest, and your strong personality keeps it.”

She studied him intently, with that look she used on her subs. It was disarming, but he wasn’t going to let her see that, not while she was still jockeying for dominance. He liked equality, and he didn’t care for power games, not when he also wanted a relationship outside of the bedroom with her. His eyes flickered to her stomach and back. There was a very real possibility she was already carrying his child.

When it first happened, he thought he would be filled with dread.

Instead, the idea held great appeal to him. The timing was bad, but he knew without a doubt that he wanted that kind of future with Sophia. He thought falling in love would be painful. He thought he’d fight it with everything he had. He was wrong. He would fight
for
it with everything he had.

A smile transformed her face, bringing him back to the present. Drew caught his breath. “That’s okay,” she said. “I noticed your looks first thing, too. I guess we’re both shallow that way.”

“We’re not shallow,” he said as he moved down her body and pushed her legs apart. “We’re just both attractive people.” Anything she might have said in response was lost in a gasp when he parted her lips and placed pineapple, strawberry and watermelon between them.

Moving up her still body, he arranged the fruit along the chocolate trails.

Every few pieces, he popped one in her mouth, covering the strawberry with chocolate. He didn’t trust her to have eaten more than a Pop Tart before arriving at his house.

Lastly, he topped the fruit with strategic squirts of his favorite canned whipped cream.

“Don’t chefs hate that stuff?” Sophia shivered as he coated her inner thighs with the cold cream.

Drew chuckled. “I can’t speak for everyone, but I love this stuff.” To prove his point, he opened his mouth and squirted some inside. She watched him, careful not to move.

He started at the sensitive places he discovered behind her ears, licking the thin trail of chocolate painted on her neck first. Drew moved slowly, taking his time and savoring every inch of her body. Her hands roamed his

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head, searching for something to hold, but his hair was too short. As he moved lower, Sophia trembled and clutched at the plastic covering the cushions.

“Drew.”

His name was a sigh on her lips. He liked when she said it that way.

She screamed when he moved from her inner thigh to greedily lick and bite at the fruit and toppings he had carefully placed in her pussy. Her cream mixed in to create the ultimate dessert. She rocked her hips, demanding more.

When she cried out, lifting her hips from the ottoman completely, he didn’t want to stop. She tasted like ambrosia and felt like silk. He could have stayed there for days.

But Sophia had other plans. Sitting up, she locked her fingers on the short hairs she could grasp and pulled his mouth to hers. The next thing he knew, he was the one lying on the plastic, and she hovered on top of him.

“My turn,” she said, a wicked grin curving her lips and lighting her eyes.

Sophia’s actions were not slow and deliberate as his had been. She didn’t bother with complicated or layered designs. She grabbed the bowl with the most chocolate left and poured it down his stomach. Her tongue began licking his chest before she finished pouring the sweet liquid over his erect cock.

When had she removed his boxers? Damn, she was good.

Drew lost himself in the feel of her lips and tongue, and of her body moving down his. She licked his dick and his balls, cleaning much of the chocolate away with erotically firm strokes.

When that luscious mouth closed over him, he lifted her hips, turning her so that he could lick her pussy while she worked him over. She fucked his mouth to the same rhythm she sucked his cock. He thrust his hips, unable to resist the need to move in time with her mouth. She sucked him deeper and deeper, sounds of muffled pleasure issuing from the back of her throat.

He squeezed her ass to let her know he was about to come, though he doubted she would pull away. His Sophia took what she wanted, and she wanted him. Musky juices flooded his mouth seconds before his come shot into hers.

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As he held her body against his afterward, his arms flexed, subconsciously pulling her closer. There was no way he was going to let her go, no way in hell.

* * * *

 

After a shower, they lounged in his bed, cloaked in post-coital languor.

He ran his fingertips lazily over her skin. Still sensitive from his earlier caresses, she quivered where he touched. She expected his caresses to grow steadily stronger as his desire returned. Surprisingly, Drew didn’t want to spend the afternoon in bed.

With a quick kiss on her shoulder, he leapt from bed and strode to what she assumed was a walk-in closet. He returned with two silk robes. He put the blue one on and threw the red one to her.

She held it up, scrutinizing it warily. It was a woman’s robe. He kept a woman’s robe in his closet. A shard of ice stabbed deep inside.

“If you don’t like it, I can take it back. Do you want a shorter one?

Longer? A different color? I thought you’d like that red. It matches your nails.”

Like an idiot, she held out her hand and stared at it. The color of the robe was almost identical to the nail polish she had chosen at the spa the previous day. She looked from the robe in her hand to Drew. “You bought a robe for me last night?”

He shrugged, more a reaction to her incredulity than to her question. “I didn’t think you would bring your own.” He bought a robe to match her nail polish. He arranged a guest pass so she could come and go through security as she pleased. This was too much.

He must have known because he came to her, halting anything she might have said by taking hold of her hand. “I just want you to be comfortable here, Sophia. I know this is difficult for you.” She snapped her eyes to his, searching those pale blue orbs for the deeper meaning. “Difficult?” She forced the word, but it only came out as a whisper. What had Ellen or Jonas told him? He stopped her from asking before. She couldn’t let him do that again. “What did Jonas tell you?” Since they spent part of the day together yesterday, Jonas seemed the logical

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traitor. He’d obviously been the one to let Drew in on the fact that he shouldn’t refer to Sophia as his girlfriend.

Emotions and thoughts flickered across Drew’s face. “He said you had a hard time trusting people. I should be patient, give you time and space.”
He should give her time and space.
“So you bought me a robe?” What was wrong with her? She was upset at the thought he might keep an all-purpose women’s robe in his closet for the myriad naked women he had visiting his home, but the knowledge the robe was for her set Sophia on course for a full-blown panic attack. Why couldn’t he have lent her a spare robe of his
own
?

His dark blond brows drew together. “Yeah, and I bought my mom a pair of diamond teardrop earrings. I don’t see the big deal.”

“I don’t want you buying things for me.” The beat of her heart thundered in her ears, drowning out her words and making them echo hollowly in her head.

“Get over it, Sophie.” He took the robe and put it on her, turning her so he could tie the belt in front. “We get along pretty well, and we’re very compatible sexually. If I’m out shopping and I see something I think you’ll like, I’m going to buy it for you because that’s the kind of person I am. I plan on having you over often and for prolonged periods of time. It’s inevitable that you’ll have a toothbrush in my bathroom and several changes of clothing in my laundry.”

“Inevitable?” She felt like an inane echo, unable to think of her own words.

“Yeah, inevitable.” He straightened the shoulders and visually checked the fit. “It looks good on you.”

“Drew…”

He took her hand. “Time for that tour. You should know your way around the house. That way, if you want to surprise me by swimming naked in the pool when I come home, you’ll know where to find it.” That kind of surprise would entail having the key to his place and the alarm code. He must have guessed the drift of her thoughts because he answered them.

“Of course we’re not to the point where we would exchange keys yet.

I’ll wait until Thursday for that.”

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She didn’t want to know how he decided on Thursday. Wordlessly, she walked beside Drew, her hand tucked into his, as he explained each room.

It was a house like any other. It had a few more bedrooms and bathrooms and living rooms, but the overall result was the same. He did have an indoor pool, three hot tubs—two indoor, one outdoor—and a basketball court. With the addition of a center net, it could also be used for tennis or volleyball.

In his walk-out basement, he had a room set up with two massage tables, a weight room, and a game room, complete with a pool table at one end. If she brought Daniel there, he would never leave. It was a bachelor’s paradise.

“You have your own pool table, and I still beat you?” She regarded him suspiciously. “I haven’t played pool in years.” He shrugged. “I’m not stupid, Sophie. I know better than to beat a woman at pool. I kept the higher purpose in mind.”

“Higher purpose?”

“Yes.” He grinned. “In case you haven’t noticed, I did manage to get you into my bed today.”

She caught the tenor of his mood, banishing the last of her anxiety. “By your logic, if you had won, we would be at my house right now.”

“Where your vibrator is,” he added dryly.

Waving away his concern, she said, “Those are in the car.” She didn’t add that she was so intimidated by the size of his house that she completely forgot the bag where she had packed assorted sex toys and a change of clothes.

“Those? How many do you have?”

It was her turn to shrug. “Lots. I brought the most likely candidates, some for you and some for me.”

“Some for me?” He was interested and excited.

“You said you were a top and a bottom, Drew. I have toys for that.” This definitely piqued his interest. “I didn’t know. This kind of thing is unquestionably a benefit to dating a dominatrix.” She wanted to argue with his claim that they were dating, but she refrained. If they weren’t seeing anyone else, dating was a loose enough term. He understood they weren’t actually in a relationship, hopefully.

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He fingered the felt on the top of the pool table. “So, what kind of scene do you have planned for tomorrow?” His pose strove for casual, but she heard the worry in his question.

“I haven’t planned it yet. There are some things that have to happen. Is there anything specific you would like for me to plan?” Tugging on her hand, he led her out of the gaming room to a small sliding door. It looked like an elevator. When the doors opened, she saw that it was, indeed, an elevator.

“What things have to happen?”

Telling him wouldn’t ruin any surprises. “Well, Christopher can’t keep an erection without pain, so I’ll have to work him over pretty well. I can do that before you come over if you don’t want to watch.”

“Do you wear a tight black leather outfit?” She shook her head. “I’m a T-shirt-and-shorts kind of girl. What you saw me wearing is my standard uniform.” The door opened again, and they were in what was easily the largest kitchen she had ever seen. It swallowed half of the first floor of his house, or so she guessed. Castles and mansions on those History Channel shows were meager in comparison. Everywhere she looked, she was met with pale marble, stainless steel, or dark-stained wood. It was stunning and impossible to take in with one sweep of the eyes.

“I designed it myself. The kitchen is the most important room in any home. I can cook a seven-course meal for fifty people or a simple breakfast for two. I can fit all of my family and friends in here during the holidays.” She would have thought he would use the dining room, but she didn’t say anything. Watching Drew talk about his kitchen was captivating. As he pointed out the features, she watched his eyes light with a passion she recognized. It was the same look she got when she talked about finance. The effect was devastating. She felt a tug and a give in her heart.

There were too many sinks for her to memorize the purpose of each one.

His cutting boards were built in, but some of his counters were moveable.

Pots and pans and mixing bowls of all sizes hung from hooks. All of his cooking paraphernalia was arranged in the open for easy accessibility.

Sophia lost track of time as she listened to him explain why one counter was heated and another was cooled. He expounded on the making of desserts as much as about cooking in general.

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Parking herself on one of the stools at the central counter, which was square and high, she watched as he began unloading foods and spices from various cupboards and from the industrial-sized refrigerator. He had a walkin freezer and refrigerator, but they were on the other side of the kitchen.

They were only for special-occasion cooking.

He eased her into the conversation as he worked, chopping vegetables with dizzying speed and amazing precision. There was a mathematical beauty about the evenness and symmetry he achieved with his cuts.

“Do you have any food allergies I should know about?” She shook her head, and then remembered one. “I’m lactose intolerant. I can handle cooked cheeses, but the soft ones give me problems.” Then he was off again. He talked her through the steps of preparing the Hawaiian Chicken recipe he was still trying to perfect until she couldn’t stop laughing. He looked up, suspending his activities as he stared at her quizzically.

“You sound like you do on your show. Are you practicing, or do you always flirt with your audience when you cook at home?” A home, she realized, that looked suspiciously like the set of his show.

He opened his mouth and closed it again. “You watch my show?” She shrugged as if she had caught it casually. Truthfully, she recorded the episode that aired the day after she met him. Even though she didn’t think she would ever see him again, she set the DVR before she went to sleep and watched the show when she arrived home from Sabrina’s pre-wedding meeting that Sunday. After she ended things with him, she watched his show because she missed him.

“I’ve seen it.”

His look said he didn’t believe the nonchalant spirit she tried to affect.

Thankfully, he let it go. “This dish is good, but something is missing. It’s your job to help me figure out what isn’t quite right.” His chatter changed after that. As he cooked, he told her about his parents, Miranda and Jonathan, who lived just down the street. “You’d think I would see them every day, living this close, but I don’t. They travel all the time. Ginny’s mom is the same way. House-sitting is an actual career for some people in this area.”

“Are you close?” She bit her lip after asking. Inquiries like this invited personal questions about her own life.

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“Yes. I talk to my parents a few times a week. I talk to my sister, Lila, about every other day. Her name is actually Delila. My parents liked names they could shorten by dropping the first two letters. I’ve always been amazed that they didn’t make people call them Randa and Nathan.” Sophia speedily put those pieces together. “Your name is Andrew?” He didn’t seem like an Andrew.

He nodded, claiming the name dismissively, and continued. “I see Gin pretty much every day, but I don’t see Sabrina so much now that she’s married.”

“But you’re friends with Jonas.”

Drew shrugged. “Only because he’s married to Sabrina. Don’t get me wrong, I like him. He’s a great guy and a good friend, but Sabrina is like a big sister to me. Although, I did have a brief crush on her in high school after I realized it was never going to happen with Ginny.” He set a plate of sliced veggies in front of her.

She selected a julienned carrot. “Because she’s a lesbian?”

“Because she kicked me in the balls when I tried to kiss her.” He tossed a bunch of cut tomatoes into a pan and set it to boiling. “That was freshman year of high school, when we were the same height. She didn’t start dating chicks until college.”

“So you moved on to Sabrina?” She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She munched another carrot.

“I tried. She had a boyfriend at the time, Stephen Galen, Star Quarterback, so she didn’t even notice.” He laughed. “I hit on her and Jonas last summer, and she thought I was kidding.” That should have been disturbing. Sophia found it funny. “Were you?” He shrugged. “I’ve spent a good amount of my life dating couples. I liked the lack of commitment it required on my part because they were already committed to each other. All the fun of a threesome with none of the headache.”

That was food for thought. They were more alike than she cared to admit. She wandered over to the pot of tomatoes that he was reducing for a sauce. She wasn’t part of a couple, and he put conditions on their friendship right away. “What changed?”

Without looking up from whatever he was skillfully doing to boneless chicken breasts with a very large knife, he grimaced. “I met you.”
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There was nothing she could say to that. She stirred his sauce instead of replying.

“What about you?” he asked. “Are you close to your family, and why do you run from commitment?”

She choked on that one, coughing so hard he turned to pound her on the back. When she regained control of herself, she ignored the question she didn’t want to answer. “I’m extremely close to my family.” Wisely abandoning his second question, he returned to his chicken, moving it to a sink. “I’ve met Daniel. Do you have any other siblings?”

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