Lost in You (18 page)

Dorian kissed a path from hipbone to breast. He sucked my nipple hard enough that it made my throat tickle. Then he kissed my lips again. His big hands pushed my legs wide and he nestled himself between my legs. The hard kiss of his cock against my nether lips shocked me. It was a splinter of pleasure that took my breath.

‘Now I can fuck you.’ His grin was borderline malicious and I thrilled at it.

‘Until I forget my name?’

‘And maybe mine,’ he laughed softly. His cock pressing, pressing, pressing to my entrance so that I opened for him. Bloomed around him like some wild flower.

‘I’ll never forget your name, Dorian,’ I said.

It was the truth.

He was in me and I loved it. The way he filled me, tested me with his body. He moved lazily. As if we had all the time in the fucking world. The world to fuck. Whichever.

Because right then, hours before sunrise, we did.

Dorian kissed my shoulders where the muscles were taut from my hands being tied. ‘Does it hurt?’ he asked, licking the place where my muscle bunched.

He moved his trim hips from side to side, his cock dragging along the most tender, secret places inside me. What came out of my mouth was almost a purr. I sighed. Shook my head. ‘Not hurt,’ I said. ‘They kind of … ache … like when you have the flu.’

‘Poor Clover.’ He kissed the muscle again and then dropped small butterfly kisses up my shoulder to my neck. My skin raced with electricity, my nipples steepling against his chest. The friction of him thrusting into me stimulated me even more. I was one big nerve ending receiving pleasure from Dorian Martin.

‘I’m not poor Clover,’ I whispered. I almost choked on the words. Instead of letting myself chicken out and not say them, I wrapped my legs around his waist. It bared my body to him even more and the feel of him deep inside me grew more intense. ‘I’m lucky Clover.’

He buried his face in my neck, slipped his hands beneath my bottom, levered me how he wanted. His thrusts grew more aggressive. More intense. ‘I’m the lucky one, sweetheart. The person with the luck here is me.’

A gripping pleasure filled my womb, my pussy, and I moaned. ‘I’m going to come again. Kiss me, please. Kiss me while it happens.’

He kissed me. Moving his hands to thread them in my hair as his body crushed mine and his rhythm grew more desperate. He paused to rock his hips from side to side and that added friction was the death of my teasing arousal. It pushed me right over the edge and I came, crying out against his lips.

Dorian moved for me, just to let me finish, and then he took his own pleasure with a few driving thrusts. When he came, he kissed me again and I swallowed his sounds of pleasure, wishing they would stay with me for ever.

* * *

The most annoying noise … filling the wonderfully minimal room. It seemed to ricochet off the white, bounce around the driftwood, wreck the peaceful background rush of the ocean. I slapped my hand around to try and locate the culprit but couldn’t. And it simply would not stop.

It did seem to stop briefly, maybe for two or three heartbeats, but then it resumed, almost with a vengeance.

I forced my eyes open and immediately squinted them shut. The sunlight alone was blinding, but in that elegant white interior it was like staring at the sun itself. I bounced across the bed, finally registering the hiss of the shower coming from the bathroom. I also registered the dull ache in my shoulders from being bound in the middle of the night.

I finally found the source of the noise. Dorian’s phone. I tried to push the button marked ‘decline’ but the screen dimmed and went dark. It went silent in my hand and I breathed a sigh of relief. Until it started making the same obnoxious noise again.

‘Jesus fuck!’ I did the only thing I could think of doing. I hit the green phone button to answer the damn thing. ‘Hello?’ I practically growled.

‘Your mother and I have been trying to get a hold of you. This Paris thing is –’ Dead silence. And not just on the other end. On my end as well. My heart hammered hard enough to reverberate in my ears. I felt my pulse in my forehead and temples. It was a woman’s voice. This was a woman calling him. And like a moron I had answered his phone. It had taken her a minute to register my voice and now she said, ‘Dorian?’

‘No … I’m … uh.’ I took a deep breath, wished for a sudden heart attack to claim me right there. Or maybe for the floor to open up and swallow me. ‘He’s not here right now. He’s … Can I take a message?’ I finished weakly.

I heard her smile.
Heard
it. And even through a phone connection it was a bitchy smile. ‘Yes, please. Tell him Natalie called. That his mother and I are trying to reach him. About
Paris
. OK, dear?’

Dear?

I fought the urge to hurl the phone across the room. Or possibly open the balcony doors and hurl it down into the white expanse of sand. Or the ocean if I had a throwing arm good enough.

‘Sure,’ I said coldly.

She sounded breezy, this woman. Even when she went on unexpectedly, ‘He’s good in bed, isn’t he.’

It wasn’t a question. I could tell. Not that my tongue would have worked at that moment anyway.

‘He knows a thing or two.’ She laughed softly. It was a malicious sound if I ever heard one. ‘Likes to give his partner great attention. He’s got a good tongue on him. Not that I really need that kind of thing to get me ready.’ Another laugh that made the pit of my stomach feel frozen. ‘Maybe you do, though. All women are different, right?’

I caught the implication. I wasn’t stupid. She fit into his world. I didn’t. I was the woman who was different. I refused to speak and give her the satisfaction. As I sat there, saying nothing, I could hear her waiting. Wondering what reaction she might provoke from me. Even though my hands were shaking, I reminded myself she couldn’t see me. I finally spoke in my strongest voice. ‘I’ll tell him you called.’

‘You do that, dear.’

And she hung up.

I put the phone back on the nightstand and I blinked, over and over and over again, but the tears came anyway. That was why I had not taken his calls. This clash of my life versus his. Girls like me did not get guys like him. Guys like him did not end up with girls like me. This wasn’t a movie of the week. I would not win the hero and beat the odds. I would be another conquest, no matter how much affection he might have for me, and he’d return to the life he was intended to have. He’d return to the life expected of him with the kind of woman expected of him. A woman like her.

The shower cut off and I quickly found my clothes. My mission now was to keep my shit together and get home. To my job and my gran and my normal everyday life. That was all I could focus on. Getting back to familiar territory and moving on.

I passed him in the doorway, gave him a smile.

‘Hey, there, beautiful. Hungry? I thought you could grab a shower and then we could eat down in the diner across the street. They have killer hash browns. The kind you fantasise about after a night’s drinking.’

I smiled. My face hurt when I did it. My heart hurt worse. ‘Yeah, sure. Just let me get dressed and I’ll be ready.’

Dorian studied me. He stroked my cheek and I felt my throat grow tight with emotion. A small sound – a melancholy sound – slipped out.

‘You OK, Clover?’

How to not have to explain?

‘I’m fine. I just have a … stomach-ache. A little one. Probably hunger.’ I’d almost said headache but it sounded too clichéd. Plus, my stomach was closer to my heart, which is what actually hurt.

He kissed my forehead. ‘Maybe a hot shower will help. I know I kept you up last night.’ His eyes sparkled when he said it. And he just looked so damned happy.

I smiled as images of us together, sensations of our union, flooded through me. My face grew hot and I quickly looked away. I forced a laugh. ‘That’s OK. I was a willing participant.’

He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my neck. He smelled wonderful. Fresh, clean man. Warm from the shower, damp hair resting against my neck. ‘I’m glad you were a willing participant. I’m glad you came. I was thinking we could –’

‘Oh, hey!’ I cut him off. ‘I forgot to say … someone called. Um, the phone would not stop and I tried to turn it off but –’ I lied here ‘– I accidentally answered. Anyway,’ I rushed on when he looked ready to ask who it was, ‘I don’t know who it was. Some lady. I was half asleep. I figured you could check your incoming call list.’

‘I can.’ His eyes narrowed and his mouth, full and sensuous and kissable, grew thin with concern. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

I managed to slip out of his arms. ‘Fine. I am fine. Just a little tired and ready for that shower.’ I rubbed my stomach. ‘And I think food will help.’

I managed to skitter into the bathroom. As I gathered a towel and found the shampoo I heard him on the phone. Heard his voice go from normal Dorian casual and laidback to an angry tone. A harsh tone. The petty part of me hoped he was giving that attitude to the woman who had so snarkily called me ‘dear’
.

The shower brought me solitude. Solitude brought me memories. The memories rolled through me, sweet and spicy images of him fucking me. The way he smelled my skin as he rocked into me. Called me ‘sweetheart’, which I’d always hated but now loved to hear. The way he made sure I came first. The way he … was. The very fact that he was Dorian.

It was not lost on me that I was gone. I had stepped through the looking-glass for him. But the call from Natalie had changed all that. She was the Red Queen. She had woken me from the moments when I let myself have silly schoolgirl fantasies about me and Dorian winding up in a happily-ever-after scenario. There would be no riding off into the sunset here. He was expected to be with a certain kind of woman. And that woman was not me.

He knocked and I called for him to come in. I didn’t poke my head out, though. I stayed in the warm safety of the spray, the dark enclosure of the shower with its thick reinforced-glass door.

‘Hey, about that call …’

I waited, soaping my skin again, though it did not need it.

‘That was Natalie. We’ve dated off and on …’

I stayed silent. I wanted to fill in the silence. Do that thing that most shrinks will tell you humans do. We rush to fill the silence. Especially in a tense or uncomfortable situation. But I bit my tongue and waited.

‘It’s a social thing. A media thing.’ He sighed. ‘My mother asked me to and it was no harm, no foul, at the time. I had no interest in anyone so I didn’t see the harm in having her on my arm for events. But Clover –’

Here was the part I didn’t want to suffer through. I cut him off. ‘It’s fine! It really is, Dorian. I was half asleep. I barely heard her. If you just give me a minute I’ll be out and we can go eat. Then we can go home.’

On the word ‘home’ my voice broke a little and I winced. I’d given myself away there. He was in tune enough with me to pick up on that shift in tone. I was right because he sighed. ‘Clover …’ he said again. Then: ‘OK. I’m sorry. I’ll be out here.’

The door closed hard enough to make me jump. I didn’t know if he was angry at me or at her. Or just angry.

‘You know you have to call him.’ Bradley leaned against the counter. I sat behind it going over some bills for paint and lumber and all kinds of ridiculous things. Who knew painting tarps cost so much? And I had no idea what a roller arm was.

‘What?’

Bradley and I rarely interacted. We had not, in fact, interacted since I’d returned from Nantucket. Since I’d left Dorian with a smile and a ‘thanks’ and taken my fractured heart back home to Gram and Aunt Brani. I refused to talk about it with anyone. Including Dorian.

I certainly wasn’t going to discuss it with Bradley. Even though he was nice, slightly flamboyant, openly gay and rather brilliant in all areas. He was kind and I found him funny but that did not mean I was going to expose to him the gnarled edges of my heart.

‘I said you’re going to have to call him, Clover. If for no other reason, just to save my sanity.’

‘This has nothing to do with you.’

After two weeks, I had become pretty good at blocking out thoughts of Dorian. I had ignored his phone calls and his texts. I only answered emails that were business-related and only put information in that had to do with work. I had to do this or I felt as if I’d crumble to bits and cease to exist.

Best to leave him in his world and me in mine.

He frowned at me. ‘Let me tell you something about Dorian Martin,’ he said. He shook a finger at me. ‘And I bet you already know this.’

At my look of surprise, he grinned. ‘Honey, people talk. Do you think we’re all blind to the fact that he swept you off your feet and flew you somewhere? Please.’ He leaned over the top of the service desk, his lemon-yellow skinny tie dangling down to brush the phone. ‘The man is not smitten … he’s wrecked! And what I can’t figure out, Clover Leaf, is why you are not smitten in return.’

Oh, but I am …

I blinked and willed my eyes not to crowd with tears. Just discussing this had broken down the barrier I had carefully built in my mind. I had refused to even discuss it with Gram, which was unusual. Now image after image of Dorian and me together filled my head. Not just the fucking … but that most of all. Us eating on the beach, looking at the clouds, talking about stupid trivial stuff that meant nothing but in the same breath meant everything.

‘Why are you shunning the man?’ Bradley persisted, flopping melodramatically over the front of the desk until I smiled a little.

‘We don’t make sense together, Bradley. It’s just a mistake waiting to happen. I’m sure once Dori– Mr Martin realises that too, he’ll forget all about me.’

Bradley squinted his eyes shut and pursed his lips. ‘For a smart broad you sure are a dumb bunny.’

He stood up straight, clapped his hands and pointed at me again. ‘Right! Time to get the lunch stuff. What are you having, Clover Leaf?’

‘Chef salad. Tell them not to dress it this time. Seriously. Last time I could have changed my car’s oil with the amount of oil and vinegar on that thing.’