Indecent Encounter: The Silverhaus Affair (16 page)

T
he silverware
I was holding clattered to the table when Chelsea walked into the kitchen. Jamison gave me a sharp look, but then I saw his eyes get caught too. Chelsea was stunning. It was the same white dress she’d worn for her birthday dinner, and it was having the same effect on me now.

I imagined running my hands up that short skirt, yanking off her panties...

“Ah, Chelsea. You’re just in time to get the bread out of the oven. I don’t trust him not to drop it.” Jamison’s words jogged me out of my thoughts, and although I knew they were spoken to Chelsea, I knew he wanted to remind me of his presence.

She smiled, proving Jamison right as I fumbled for another fork.

“The bread smells delicious. Is it the honey-wheat one you make?” she asked Jamison as she went to the drawer to remove oven mitts.

From where I was placing the silverware, I watched the two of them working together smoothly, chatting freely. The two of them moved so naturally together. I envied Jamison. He seemed to know Chelsea better than I did.

Still engrossed in her conversation with Jamison, Chelsea turned the baking pan over and popped the loaf of bread onto a wire rack. “Karl would love this bread. It was his favorite when we were little.”

I stepped a little closer to the large kitchen island trying to get in on the conversation. I really wanted to know more about Chelsea, but it seemed like I was failing on my own. Maybe I needed Jamison's help.

“Is Karl your brother?” I asked.

Chelsea looked up and nodded, then went to help Jamison dress the salads. I’d already finished setting the kitchen table, and tapped my fingers on the granite countertop, feeling like I was watching a movie of two people making dinner. Like I was the audience and not actually there.

Jamison waved for me to go sit at the table so that he and Chelsea could serve our dinner. I wanted to help, to make sure Chelsea felt like it was her night off, but I went the wrong way around the kitchen island and caused a traffic jam. Finally, I extricated myself and escaped to the table. They joined me and the conversation continued, but I still felt awkward. This wasn’t going the way I’d planned.

It felt like I was in some strange competition for Chelsea’s attention, like I had to say something to prove my position and be part of the group. I knew Jamison like a father. He’d seen me through diapers and toilet training. So in an effort to show how close we were, I said, “Jamison’s an excellent baker too.” I nodded like I was some kind of expert about Jamison’s past, but my remark just came out sounding stupid and Chelsea barely acknowledged it. “He even makes a roast that’s baked in a flaky crust.”

“Beef Wellington,” Chelsea replied. “Yes, he told me all about it.” Then she turned her attention back to Jamison. “I want to learn how to make the pastry leaves and decorations for it. Can you show me, Jamison?”

“Beef Wellington is a winter dish, dear,” Jamison said, serving a slice of pork on Chelsea’s plate. “Do you want us to cook like Dotty?”

They laughed as if they were sharing some kind of private joke. I tried not to frown and asked, “Who’s Dotty?”

“Mrs. Carerra. That’s my mom’s name, Dotty. The foster family that adopted me. It was such a big house, and the kitchen was always in total chaos. She’s such an angel, though. She always cooked whatever we voted on, and believe me, there were a lot of us to cook for.”

“Pot roast in the summer, gazpacho in the winter. Total chaos.” Jamison said it with such authority that it confirmed what I'd thought earlier. He really did know Chelsea much better than I did.

They laughed again, and I started on my salad. I raked through the fresh greens from Jamison’s garden, and felt my emotional pendulum swing. On the one hand, I was glad Chelsea felt so comfortable here in my house. She seemed genuinely happy. Plus, Jamison was happier than I’d seen him in years. Everyone was so damn happy.

Except me.

I was jealous. I felt left out in my own house, but I wasn’t giving up.

“So you were adopted by the Carerras, but you mentioned you were in foster care for a few years before that. How old were you when they adopted you?” I asked.

“I was in high school, sixteen years-old.”

“And how old was your brother? He’s younger than you, right?” I asked, determined to learn more about my beautiful guest.

“Karl?” Chelsea asked, sharing a glance with Jamison. “No, the Carerras didn’t adopt him.”

“That’s strange. Don’t they try to keep families together?” I asked.

She let her fork rest on her plate and said, “He wasn’t available for adoption at that point.”

I looked at her, confused, hoping she would continue. Chelsea’s eyes were stormy, the blue tumbling with emotions I couldn’t read, but I felt the same hesitation I’d sensed on the phone with her before. Had I hit a nerve?

“It’s...complicated,” she said, “and I seem to recall you don’t like people complicating your life.” She gave me a tight smile. “Unfortunately, not everyone gets to have a simple, straightforward life like you.”

Damn, I’d done it again. I’d hit a nerve without even really knowing how I kept doing it. Chelsea looked pissed at me. Like I’d just sat on her favorite Chihuahua dog or something. But she was right. Despite divorced parents, my life had been easy. Jamison was always there for me, and I’d had everything I ever needed. Chelsea was also right about what I’d said. I remembered exploding at her about things complicating my life.

Funny thing was, I tried to explain how meeting her had upset everything in my life, but in a good way. She lit up my life like nobody else, and she just didn’t know how amazing she really was. But, of course, I'd fumbled it. Instead of telling her how I felt, I'd given her the ultimatum that had created this distance between us. I wanted to get closer to Chelsea, but watching her and Jamison, it seemed as if I knew nothing at all about her.

I sat back and looked to Jamison for help. He gave me a polite sniff and changed the subject. “I hate to mention her name for fear she’ll appear, but how did our actress do today?” he asked.

I launched into the story of April and the multiple takes and soon had them both laughing. Finally, it felt like my house again and the tension in my shoulders relaxed.

“Well, while you were on set we had our own excitement here,” Chelsea said.

“Really? What happened?” I asked.

Jamison said, “Nothing. Alex isn’t interested in dusting schedules and household chores.”

“Come on, Jamison,” I said, finally confessing, “You two are making me feel left out in my own home.”

Chelsea’s ocean blue eyes caught mine. When she smiled, I felt my heart jump. That had been a real smile.

She explained, “The dining hall chandelier was on the dusting schedule for today, and Jamison decided it was easier to stand on the dining table than get the ladder.”

“Oh, no. Did you fall? Are you alright?” I asked.

“Well, I care about the chandelier,” Jamison sniffed.

“You should’ve seen him,” she said with a smile. “He was an acrobat. The duster got caught in the lower tiers, and he had to get a chair to stand on. When I came in it was like one of those balancing acts out of a circus.”

Her eyes danced with laughter, and I smiled back at her. Finally, it felt like we were connecting. “And I bet he didn’t ask for help. He’s stubborn like that.”

“
He
only pulled a muscle in his back,” Jamison said snidely, making reference to the fact that we were talking about him when he was right in front of us.

“A pulled muscle?” Oh, I was going to use that. “All the more reason for you to go relax. I told Chelsea earlier, I’m doing the dishes tonight.”

Jamison gave his precious china a glance, then sighed. “Keep an eye on him, please, Chelsea.”

As he left, wincing when he thought I wasn't looking, I refilled Chelsea’s wine glass and with a smile and said, “You should relax too. It’s your night off.”

I stacked all the dishes and carried them to the sink. I knew Jamison hand-washed the china, and I figured I could wrangle a plate or two with a soapy sponge.

“Here, let me help,” Chelsea said. She brought her wine glass over to the counter and then pulled a bottle of dish soap from the cupboard below the sink.

My eyes followed her graceful moves as she worked, my gaze trailing down the enticing curve of her ass when she bent over and down her long seductive legs.

“You know you make things easier, right? I never meant to say you complicate my life.”

“Then what did you mean?” She straightened and turned to face me.

“I don’t know how to say it,” I said tipping her chin so her eyes met mine.

All I could do was touch my lips to hers and hope the kiss said more than my words. She opened to it, her mouth parting on a sigh, and she rose up on her tiptoes to taste the wine on my lips. I leaned back against the counter, and she pressed against me, licking flames of desire following the path of her tongue.

Her hands reached up to tangle in my hair, leaving her body draped across mine. I ran my hands down her back from the bare skin of her shoulders to the soft flowing dress. She shifted against me, pulling a moan deep from inside me. My fingers twitched at the hem of her dress, desperate to touch her. When I felt no hesitation from her, I slipped my hands underneath it.

I trailed my fingers up the backs of her thighs to the thin border of her panties. The caress caused her to shiver and smile, her lips curving before opening deeper into our kiss. I wanted to lift her, but I felt woozy, my mind deliciously scrambled by the circles of her hungry tongue. When she dragged one bare leg up my pants and wrapped it around me, a lightning fast adrenaline rush fired through my veins, and my cock jerked with pleasure.

I swept my hand up her exposed leg to the knee at my waist and then traveled slowly along the silky skin of her thigh. When I reached the border of her panties again, I remembered how, in the pool, she'd begged me to rip them off. I yanked the narrow lace aside and thrust my finger inside. She was wet and ready for me, just the way I’d always pictured her in my dreams.

Her hands left my hair and raked down my chest to my belt. I nipped at her bottom lip as she yanked my pants open and shoved her hand down to find me heavy and hard. When she wrapped her fingers around me, I nearly lost control.

I pulled back from our melding kiss to look into the ocean of her eyes again. I wanted my cock in her pretty mouth, her eyes watching my face so she could see how much she pleased me. So she could see the power that she had over me. Then I wanted to open her up, tease her soft clit until she begged to feel the girth of my cock filling her, stretching her.

It was complicated, the surging, pounding need I had for her. Yeah, she was right about that. She spun my head around like crazy, but it was a wonderful kind of crazy when I was with her like this, heart pounding, pulse racing, and only one thing on my mind. Having Chelsea as mine. Knowing that the torrent of desire in her eyes was all for me.

I needed her down on her knees in front of me. She hadn’t tasted my cock yet, and there was something inside of me that ignited like fire every time I pictured her that way. I cupped her face with my hands and locked eyes with hers. Gently I pushed her down. It was a simple signal, and she didn't resist as she acknowledged it with a smile. She looked up at me through her thick lashes as she licked her lips, and I made a sound in the back of my throat. I threw my head back when I felt the warm wetness of her lips around my shaft, then snapped my eyes back to her face and watched as she took me deeper into her mouth.

My hand instinctively went to her hair, and I tangled a fist into those long silky locks as she sucked me. I groaned and whispered, “That’s my girl, suck it.”

She grabbed the base of my cock with one hand and sucked harder, each pull of her mouth sending a bolt of nearly painful pleasure through me.

“Look at me,” I said, my voice husky and low. “Look at me, Chelsea. See what you do to me? You make me crazy for you.”

Her eyes flicked open and she looked up. I tugged her hair, tipping her head back slightly to get a better look at the hot desire in her eyes. Seeing her lips stretched wide around my shaft made my hand tighten in her hair. I needed her to see me, to understand all of the things I couldn't say.

“See that?” I hissed through clenched teeth. “My naughty little temptress. See what you do to me? Running around my house, tempting me every day. You make me so hard.”

I moaned again as she stroked my base harder, covering with her hand what she couldn't take into her mouth. The swirling ecstasy of seeing her sucking my cock, of thinking about how I wanted to fuck her in every room of my house, was bringing me to orgasm too quickly. I wanted to make it last, relish every beautiful sight of her in the throes of pleasure.

I tightened my grip on her hair and stopped her movement. “Wait…” I panted. I moved her head until she released me, lifted her to her feet and pulled her into my arms. I kissed her lips, tasting myself on her lips. “I want to be inside of you…”

She shimmied out of her panties, dropping them to the floor in a move that made my mouth go dry.

“We should go to my bedroom. I don’t have a condom here.”

She gave me a soft smile, one full of promise and heat. “It’s okay. I trust you and I’m on the pill.”

Well damn. No way was I going to pass up the opportunity to go into her bare.

In one swift move, I lifted her to the smooth granite of the kitchen island. I couldn’t wait for the bedroom. I wanted her now. As I stepped into the open spread of her legs, the sensual sapphire of her gaze drilled into me, and I was lost. Yeah, I wanted to fuck her, but I also wanted to crawl up inside of her and be one with her. The thought blew my mind, and I thrust into her. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me deep, the wet throbbing draw of her making me clench hard. I loved being in her, feeling her hot, wanting body clutching at mine, panting, and clinging to me like there was no tomorrow.

Without her, there wasn't one. Wasn't a future, wasn't a reason for existence. She'd walked into my life and consumed me so completely that I didn't know who I was without her.