Uncovering You 5: Confessions (7 page)

I wait without moving for a count of sixty. Then I turn around and try to call the lift up by myself.

No such luck. The light remains off. The elevator is the only way in or out of the suite. It looks like I’m to remain here until Stonehart arrives.

I turn back and look at the new space. The décor is a departure from what I’ve gotten used to in Stonehart’s mansion. Instead of sleek minimalism, it’s more elaborate and showy. Expensive paintings hang on the walls. The light fixtures above me are gilded. The cold, tile floor is covered by expensive Persian rugs.

I walk through the suite to get a sense of its size. It’s
massive
. Immense. It doesn’t just take up the entire story of the hotel. It takes up two. An open floor plan on the second level allows me to see the bedrooms from the living room floor.

I yawn as I pass one luxurious-looking bed. I glance at the clock on the wall. It shows a few minutes after four. Stonehart is bound to be working for a few more hours, yet. And I didn’t get a complete night’s sleep.

I lower myself onto the bed and sigh in relief as my body hits the soft mattress. I check on the brooch to make sure it’s in no danger of falling off. Next, I pick up one corner of the blanket, fling it over me, and close my eyes, drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

***

Something vague and uncertain tugs me from sleep. I open my eyes, and find Stonehart leaning against the doorway in the bedroom.

My breath hitches in alarm. I remember what happened last time he found me like this. I start to scramble up, but Stonehart stops me with a calming gesture.

“Lie still,” he says. “Relax. I only just got here. You’re in no danger of displeasing me.”

He walks toward the bed and sits by my legs. His crisp suit accents his body shape and makes him look stunning.

He places a hand above my knee, on my inner thigh. Even through the fabric I can feel the warmth of his touch.

His eyes trail up my body. His thumb moves back and forth against my leg. He meets my eyes. I see what must be one of his rare genuine smiles.

“Hi,” he says softly. “How are you?”

“I’m…good,” I say after a moment, my mind still a little fuzzy from sleep.

“I have a question for you,” Stonehart says. He takes my hand. “And it is my most genuine hope that you say
yes
.”

A shudder runs through me as he brings my hand to his lips and kisses my palm. He lets go, but I keep my hand there, brushing the short stubble on his jaw.

Is this a dream?
I wonder.
Am I still sleeping
?

“What is it?” My words come soft, matching his. The melody of our voices lends an ethereal aura to the bedroom.

“Would you be interested,” he begins, a small glimmer showing in his eyes, “In accompanying me to dinner tonight?”

“Where?” I ask.

Stonehart smiles. “Not here, obviously. Outside. In public. At a magnificent restaurant overlooking the Columbia River.

I push myself up and look at him. “You’re actually serious?”

He gives me a lazy smile. “Of course I am, sweet Lily.” He rubs my leg in a slow, unhurried way. “The reservation is set. All that’s required is your approval.”

“Then yes,” I say, hardly believing this conversation. “Yes! I’d love to go to dinner with you tonight, Jeremy.”

He nods. “Good,” he says. He looks like he’s on the verge of saying more, but then he gives a miniscule shake of his head and stands. “I’ll give you an hour to get ready. Is that enough time?”

“Too much,” I say. “I don’t need an hour. Just let me fix my hair and I’ll be ready in—”

“Lilly.” Stonehart holds up one hand and stops me short. His voice is firm but gentle. “I told you there’s no rush. Take the hour. Have a shower. You don’t need to be on edge with me. Not tonight.”

He turns back and starts out of the room.

“Wait,” I call after him. “Are there going to be… rules?”

He misses a step. When he speaks, he doesn’t look at me, instead staring straight ahead. “ ‘Rules,’” he quotes. “Yes, Lilly, there are going to be rules. I was hoping to inform you of them on the drive there.”

He glances over his shoulder. “I don’t want such things troubling you yet.”

“I think now would be—”

“No, Lilly!” This time he snaps the command. “I said I’ll tell you of them later, and that’s what I intend to do. Don’t question me on such things.”

“Okay,” I whisper. I don’t want to provoke him, not when I can tell he’s trying so hard to stay in control. “Um, Jeremy? When I shower, the brooch…?”

“It was deactivated the minute you stepped into this suite. Along with the collar. When you’re in here, you don’t need to worry about holding your tongue. It’s not like there’s anybody you can talk to.” He turns and faces me. “For future reference: any residences you visit with me, that are mine, will work with the brooch and collar the same way.”

“You mean…” I narrow my eyes slightly, half from disbelief, “…that you intend to bring me to other places?”

“Provided your behavior outside my San Jose mansion continues to be exemplary,” he pauses. “Then yes. There’s a whole world out there that I have built to my image. It would be a dastardly shame to be unable to share it with you. I want you at my side, Lilly-flower, and I want to show you the wonders that Stonehart Industries has granted me. I own property worldwide: Resorts, other mansions, beautiful villas. They have seen infrequent use. I’ve been waiting for something… someone… to share that with.”

“Me?” I say, almost certain that this is another jest, just like the Dextran job.

“Yes, my dear. You.” He chuckles. “You mustn’t look so surprised. You didn’t truly think I’d keep you locked away forever. How could I? You’re so beautiful, so precious. Your radiance demands to be shared with the world. I’ve attended galas and events with dozens of stunning women. Yet none of them have ever held a candle to you.” He touches his chest. “Not in my heart.”

With that, he turns away again. “An hour, Lilly. Starting right now. But please,” he takes a deep, controlled breath. “Don’t be late.”

***

Forty minutes later, I’m fresh out the shower and dressed in a magnificent, black silk dress. The neckline is embedded with tiny, clear, precious stones. I suspect they’re diamonds. I mean, why wouldn’t they be? But I have no experience with such things to be sure.

The brooch is fastened on my left shoulder strap. It adds a splash of color that complements my appearance quite nicely. If it wasn’t for what it represents…

No. I stop myself from going down that path of thoughts. I wanted to get close to Stonehart. This trip—this dinner—will be my first real chance to do so in weeks.

Can I pretend my last stint in the dark never occurred? No. Of course not. What Stonehart did to me there… the horrible way he made me feel… none of it can ever be forgotten. But I cannot show that I bear him any ill will. This trip to Portland, the dinner tonight—in public!—is the first tangible step I’ve made with him probably ever. This is real progress.

And yet… I can’t stop feeling that something is not right. It’s almost like Stonehart is trying to lure me into a false sense of security just before pulling the rug out from under my feet.

I suppress a shudder. I desperately hope that’s not the case. And I know that worrying about it will lead me nowhere. I need to stay on my guard, remain cautious… and not do anything to provoke another punishment from Stonehart.

I enter the foyer and find him reclining in a grand armchair, looking out at the darkening city skyline. He’d changed into a pristine black tuxedo while I was showering.

I stop, and for a second or two simply look at the man. He hasn’t noticed me yet. I think this might be the first time that I have been able to look at Stonehart without him knowing I’m there.

He looks… damn good. One of his hands is idly tugging at a cufflink on his other wrist. His facial profile is so prefect it would make a sculptor weep. Everything from the angular jaw, to the prominent nose, to the deep-set yet beautiful eyes, makes him an image of utter male splendor.

And right now, he’s unguarded. This is a rare glimpse of Stonehart when he thinks he’s alone.

Somehow, that makes all the things he’s responsible for secondary to his sheer presence. There’s no pretense with him right now. No masks. I don’t have to dissemble who he is or what he wants. What I see is what I get: Jeremy Stonehart, raw and unadulterated.

“Are you going to stare at me forever,” he says without moving his gaze from the window, “Or are you going to give some indication that you’re there?”

He turns his head, then, and his eyes bore into me. There’s a heated intensity contained there.

Panic rises within me. That type of look has only meant one thing in the past: That I’ve done something wrong.

Before I can move or say a word, Stonehart is out of the chair and looming before me. I brace myself for something—what, I don’t know—but what I get instead surpasses every expectation.

Stonehart puts one hand above my hip, tugs me into him, and kisses me fiercely.

The kiss is a mixture of molten lava and smoldering passion. He hasn’t ever kissed me like this. No one has.

Heat flows into me and the blood drains from my head as my body responds to him in the most natural way possible. Stonehart’s kiss consumes me. I let it do so entirely.

When he finally lets go, my legs are shaky. My lips are swollen from the assault. And I can feel heat—palpable, scorching heat—radiating from my cheeks and neck and chest.

I’d mistaken the look in his eyes. It wasn’t displeasure. It was
desire
.

How I am able to prompt such passion in him, I will never know.

Or why my body still responds to him this way, after all that he’s put me through.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a very long time,” he growls. His voice is low and husky. “And when I saw you walk out, I couldn’t wait any longer.”

He touches the side of my face. His thumb leaves a scorching line down my cheek as it wonders to the corner of my lips. “Forgive my… impropriety.”

“It’s forgiven,” I say, breathless and still reeling.

This is the same man who starved you!
A tiny voice screams at me.
This is the same man who—

I shut it up ruthlessly. I know who Stonehart is. I know what he’s done to me, and all that he’s responsible for. Those are not things one can forget. But when he kisses me like this… when he makes me feel so deliciously turned on, against all logic and reason and sense… well, why shouldn’t I enjoy it?

I don’t need to give myself constant reminders of the past. After his confession last night, Stonehart seems ready to turn a new leaf. Who knows where that will bring us? All I know is that it will be infinitely better than anything we’ve had before.

There might be flare-ups in the future. There might be other instances of him getting angry or mad or vindictive. But I don’t want to worry about that. I’ve already learned to savor these precious, short, exquisite moments with him.

He takes my hand. “Shall we go?”

I nod dumbly. I can’t get my bearings with the man.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks, a tiny bit of amusement clear in his voice.

“No,” I say. “It’s just you.”

That comment makes Stonehart beam. “I have a gift for you,” he says. “But I’m saving it for later tonight.”

“You’re spoiling me,” I say as we come to the elevator. “A trip to Portland. Dinner in public. What’s next, the collar coming off?”

Stonehart goes stiff. His eyes darken, and his whole demeanor changes.

Idiot!
I think.
What possessed you to say something like that?

“Jeremy, I’m sorry,” I backtrack, as quickly as I can. “It was a joke. I didn’t mean—”

“No.” Stonehart cuts me off with one soft word that’s sharper than any knife. “You did mean it, Lilly, and I don’t want you to lie to me again. I know what the collar means to you. And I also know—as you must—that it can never come off. I’m taking you out tonight to demonstrate some of that trust I spoke of. But this…” one finger runs around the collar, “must always remain in place. I did not become the man I am by not planning for contingencies. The collar ensures your compliance with my desires… no matter your disposition.”

The elevator doors open and Stonehart steps through. He does not look at me when he continues. “You understand the need for it, I’m sure. You’re a sharp girl. If you looked at things from my perspective, you wouldn’t ask questions like that.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “It was just a joke. A bad one.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “A bad one.” He takes a deep breath and hits the call button. The elevator starts to descend. “I do not want your attention diverted by such things, Lilly,” he says. “Not tonight.” He looks over at me, and then reaches out to take my hand again. “Tonight is supposed to be about us. A man and a woman enjoying each other’s company. Nothing more. What can be simpler than that?

What indeed
? I wonder. No matter how much I or Stonehart might want things to be different, our relationship can never be that black and white.