Reinventing Fate, page 16
The ball vaults off as Benny straightens to gawk at me. Incredulity and shock have the clever and well-educated man blinking stupid at me. “What?”
“A woman,” I add, as if my vomited confession needed clarification, and veer off to grab a towel just to keep myself moving. “She’s here.”
“Here? In Southampton?”
“Where else?”
“That’s… wow. I can’t… I think I’m going to need a minute.” Quietly, his gaze dissects me from twenty feet away. “You’re absolutely serious.”
I shrug, helping myself to a bottled water. “She’s a friend. For now.” That’s the tamest label I can come up with.
“You’ve never brought a guest, much less a woman.” He does a three-eighty of the otherwise empty tennis court and the surrounding gardens. “Where is she?”
“Right about now? Settling at Sealine.” My Southampton residence is only half a mile away.
“Wait. You’re not staying with us?”
“No.” I sigh. “I’m not. You know I won’t.”
I haven’t slept under the same roof as my mother since I was eighteen, which was how I managed to maintain my sanity for all these years.
Benny shakes his head, clearly taken aback by the revelation. “What’s her name?”
“Paige.”
With the racket over one sturdy shoulder, he strolls over, eying me skeptically. “Paige what?”
“You don’t know her,” I respond automatically.
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“You brought her up, Colin,” he reminds me drily. “I’m going to venture a guess that you wanted to talk about her. This means you actually have to disclose information such as her name.”
My gaze darts off, alighting on the trimmed shrubs lining a path on the lawn. The grounds of Darby are ruthlessly maintained, even with Mother and Jay visiting only a couple of times a year, probably so Mother would have less to complain about when she is.
It’s not that I mind my brother learning more of Paige. What he’s asking, it’s basic, but if I reveal it, it’s sharing her. Foolish, yet that’s how I’m frantically fighting for what’s fast becoming a tenuous control when it comes to Paige.
Benny waits for me, patiently, wordlessly. No judgment. No rush.
He’d make a good doctor.
“Zine. Her name is Paige Zine.”
He frowns, his mind searching. “Do we know the Zines?”
For some odd reason, that makes me laugh, because of course Benny’s thoughts would head in that direction. He’s been trained that way since birth. “I do. I doubt you do.” Fingers raking back my hair, I meet his gaze. “I met her at a rundown diner where she worked.” I pause. “As a server.”
The corners of his mouth pull up slowly, utterly delighted. “Oh, man. No wonder you’re hiding her.” His free hand is up, effectively covering the top of his face as he rubs at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, but not the growing grin. “Mother is going to have a heart attack.”
It’s a shame he completely misses my glower. “I’m not hiding her.”
“Aren’t you?” His hand lowers. “Hey, if a prince can marry an actress, there’s nothing wrong with you and a waitress.”
My scowl hurts my face. “Who said anything about marriage?”
Still grinning, he sets the racket down to grab his own refreshment. “She’s here, Colin, when you’ve never even mentioned a woman to me unless it was at a professional capacity. Not only that, the fact you could’ve kept her being here to yourself but didn’t is a neon sign she’s not just some random weekend lay for your convenience. And whatever she is to you– friend or not– she’s got you.”
~~~~~
“She’s upstairs.” There’s understanding indulgence in the way Janey’s eyes crinkle in the corner. “She was so excited, she was running around the house touching everything.”
Excited? Somehow, after being nabbed from her apartment, forced to head ninety miles east without warning, deposited in a strange house without a familiar face in sight, and having her weekend jerked out from under her, I figured Paige would be a little peeved.
“Is everything set up for her?”
Her coiffed white hair bobs at her nod. “Yes, she’ll be in the Lily Room.”
“Thank you, Janey.”
This time, the creasing around her eyes is pure fondness. “It’s so good to have you here, Colin.”
My heart gives, just a little. Janey was my nanny until my eighth birthday when Mother got rid of her for being inappropriate with me after she caught her wrapping me into her plumpness in a sympathetic hug, kissing the top of my head after I scraped my knees on the stone driveway. Janey never had kids of her own, secretly treating me and Benny like we were hers. Deprived of parental nurturing, I milked it from my nanny, basking in her easy affections. Hell, I even asked her if I could call her mommy Janey when I was five. With tears in her eyes, she told me nothing would please her more, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, and my parents wouldn’t approve. That was that.
On the stairs, the thump-thump-thump of sprinting feet from the second floor vibrates the banister, but as soon as I touch the landing, I’m greeted with silence. Mild sunlight streams through the many windows, from the skylights dotting the ceiling. All the doors are gaping open, and as I pass the first bedroom, I catch a glimpse of a rumpled bed.
Another bedroom reveals pillows gone awry, hanging off every which way, part of the blue bedding trailing on the rug.
The cover is dented in the center of the bed in the third bedroom. Someone clearly leapt right on it.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
A flash of Paige sprints out of one of the bedrooms, hair flying behind her, straight into another receiving door. I’m hot on her tail without hesitation just in time to spot her enthusiastically hurling herself on that bed with a satisfying whoosh, gleefully throwing her arms out on the now wrinkled bedding, cute, bare toes wiggling.
I stare at her, her dark hair fanned out all over the place, her expression so smugly thrilled that I can’t help the strong tug at the corners of my mouth.
She utterly steals my breath.
This is the real Paige, not the fabricated one copyrighted by me, and she’s absolutely stunning in her simple bliss.
I’m hovering in the doorway, not sure if I should admonish her for her silly antics or laugh with her and her innocent joy. “What are you doing?” I meant it to be sober, but I couldn’t hide the amusement.
“Colin!” She sits up, her delighted face splitting into a wide grin. “This house is amazing. It’s gorgeous and warm and fun and inviting.”
Don’t stare at her jiggling breasts. “I enjoy them. It!” I correct quickly, clearing my throat. “The house. Janey keeps it welcoming.”
“For sure.” The breasts wobble with her exhale. “She’s great, too. You’re so lucky.”
“Luck has little to do with it.” I’m clammy from my game with Benny, but I join her anyway, claiming a seat at the edge of the bed to face her. Hell, Janey will have to clean in here after Tornado Paige. “Were you trying to decide which room you find most acceptable?”
“I like them all. What if I sleep in a different room every hour? Would that be weird?”
Something like pleasure, gratification, settles in my stomach, my chest. “You can do whatever you want.”
There’s no other way to describe her smile other than spellbinding, her eyes sparkling. Perhaps addicting because I want to see it again and again, a high I’m desperate to chase.
Gingerly, she slides over to the side to pat the newly vacant spot next to her, causing those ripe breasts to joggle once more and my mouth to water. “Relax with me for a minute.”
“Only a minute?” I do, stretching out on my side to face her, my head propped on one fist as I peer down at those big, beautiful eyes. “What’ve you been up to?”
Haughty brows arch. “Well, you know. I had to have my hair done,” she announces with mock, snooty air. “My nails were positively atrocious. I told Betsy she simply must rescue them.”
“In other words, you didn’t do anything.”
“Yup,” she agrees unashamedly. Sobering, her fingers come up, running over the side of my jaw. “Thank you for bringing me here. I never made it out this far until now.”
“I thought you didn’t want to see me.” I hadn’t planned on bringing it up, of allowing her to give me more half-assed excuses, but it was eating at me and needed to be forcefully ejected. “You like it here? I’ll bring you every weekend if you want, but what I don’t want is to be jerked around, Paige.”
“I wasn’t jerking you around. I was just… I don’t know. Confused. You’re this force, Colin. This great, big force that I’m afraid can take over. Sometimes I don’t know if I can survive you.”
I wouldn’t have thought it’d be possible for me to be touched by words anymore, but I’m flattered by her reluctant honesty. Funny, I would describe her the same way. “You’ve been doing great so far.” I lower my head, gradually, purposely. “Do great with me.”
Her tempting lips purse as her gaze skates over my damp hair down to the clingy gray T-shirt. “You’re all sweaty.”
“Am I offending your delicate senses?”
Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “Are you asking me if you stink?”
I’m biting back a smile. God, just her being here, boldly baiting me, calmly stays and enlivens me like nothing else. “Sure.”
“You do, but soap and water won’t fix your kind of stench.”
“Oh?” I lift a brow when what I really want to lift is her. Right above me. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me what will.”
“Being nicer to people.”
“I’m plenty nice.”
“Um-um.” She shakes her head, trying in vain to feign earnestness. “If you were, you wouldn’t subject me to your smell.”
“You have a thing against my perspiration?” So swift she doesn’t have a chance to respond or yelp, I pull her to me, tightly enveloping her in my stench. “How about now?”
Feminine squeals peal through the room. “Eew. You’re disgusting!” But she’s laughing, daring to wiggle that luscious body against me. “You need a shower.”
I need a lot more than that, if what’s in my shorts has anything to say about it. “And now you need one,” I tease.
She smacks my shoulder playfully, and I grudgingly ease back.
“Let me guess, you’re going to give me some cheap line about showering together to conserve water?”
“I’m all about the environment.” I chuckle at her expression, lazily rolling off the bed. “Fine, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
Still lounging, she relaxes back on her elbows, stretching out her legs. She’s delectable in a shoulder-baring coral top and lax tan silk pants.
Leaning down, I briefly plant my palms on either side of her hips, sluggishly brushing my lips against hers as I savor her delectable taste. I wouldn’t mind staying like this, doing exactly this, for the rest of the day, but Paige is suddenly cautious as we reacquaint ourselves.
I don’t like her cautious. She was precious as she was a moment ago, carefree and charmed.
A part of me hidden deep within knows I’m utterly enchanted by her, completely ensnared and one hundred percent in trouble, but I won’t acknowledge it. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Straightening, my smirk is deliberate, enjoying her surprise and flushed cheeks as I turn. When I curl an arm back over my head and yank off the T-shirt, it’s casual. I don’t have to glimpse over my shoulder to know Paige’s smoldering eyes are zeroing in on my purposeful movements, not when it’s prickling every inch of my damp, exposed skin.
Without faltering, I flick open the front clasp and zipper of my borrowed shorts, hooking my thumbs in the loose waistband as I stride toward the bathroom.
It’s burning now, the million licks of flames on my flesh.
Then I figure, what the hell.
With a little shove, my shorts and briefs slide down my legs.
There’s a choked gasp behind me.
23
~ Paige ~
I can’t.
I shouldn’t.
This wasn’t why I came.
Was it?
Reasons, excuses, relentless justifications race through my besieged head, bluntly ogling Colin and his flawless male physique claiming every step he gains away from me. Taut, sculpted muscles ripple with every shift, his impressive shoulders, back, buttocks, and legs lovingly molded with precise care.
And the bigheaded jerk knows it.
He disappears inside the bathroom, not even feigning modesty, leaving the door wide-open in invitation.
I’m sitting up before I know it, shamelessly trying to peek, but the room must be well-spaced because I can’t catch a glimpse of the mouthwatering naked man no matter how hard I try or how far I tilt.
The sound of cascading water splashing on hard surfaces fills my ears. My heart is galloping, tearing through pumping blood. I clutch at my chest, afraid it might leap right out for the bathroom. The air is heavy, either from the heat racing through me or the humidity slowly flowing out of the bathroom.
Colin with nothing but wet skin…
On a tormented groan, I scoot off the bed. He’s doing it on purpose, probably guessing the poor waitress hasn’t been laid in… I don’t even know how long. Years, for sure. Well, if he thinks I easily succumb to temptation just because he looks ridiculously tasty naked, then… then I don’t know what.
My mind is so scrambled, I can’t even think straight.
Lacking thought and wholly without intention, my feet carry me to the bathroom. Just a peep, I tell myself. He wants me to, is summoning me to look.
It would be rude of me not to look, and Mr. Morrison worked so hard to drill manners into me.
Yeah. That’s it.
A barrier of steam hails me. Measured, mighty splatters echo within the tiles, the beautifully papered walls. Through the surrounding mist, Colin is there, a tall, superbly built man inside a cocoon of glass. Jet streams of water beat down on him as he carelessly runs his soapy hands around his chest, the gesture practiced yet startlingly hypnotic. Eyes closed, his calm face is turned up to welcome the spray.
Starving for more of him, for all of him, my gaze lowers. His abdomen is ferociously cut, the harsh sinews strictly defined. My tongue trembles from wanting to lick all over them, test the crazy swells and texture.
Even as I watch, motionless with greed for him, a wide, masculine hand slips down, grazing over the stern-looking belly button. I can’t help it. My gaze is trained on that hand, on the long fingers leading me.
Down.
They wrap around his strong, very rigid length. Firmly, he gives it a sure once-over rub, thumb foraging over the wide tip.
My eyes shoot up to his face.
He’s stalking me, the same way I’ve been keenly watching him.
“Come here, Paige.”
His words– no, his command– pulsate within the walls of haze and mist.
“I am here.” It’s not real, this off-script scene emerging. If I lift a finger, he will evaporate.
With his free hand, he wipes at the foggy glass. “Not yet. In here, Paige, so you can do more than look.”
Yes, yes, I want that.
The stall is sizeable, with two sides made of glass and the tiles mosaic shades of blue. There’s no door, just an opening at one end where the potent sprays don’t reach.
Dark, dark eyes lock on me, sucking me in. My body is too tight, my legs too weak. A relentless throb beats at me from the inside out, taking over every objection, any rationality.
That throb, it needs to be filled.
Stepping back, he takes the few paces that bring him to the gap. A dripping arm punctures the moistness, pulling me in.
Damp air gushes down my throat at my gasp. The luxurious, designer ensemble I thought was so pretty is plastered against a firm, wet chest. His hands are on my hips, while mine lie on his deliciously hard biceps.
“I’m pretty sure this outfit should be dry cleaned, not shower washed,” I chide lightly. “What’s the point of nice clothes if you’re going to ru—”
His mouth takes over mine, his tongue well-versed in the mating dance. Big hands stake their undisputed claim on me, running up my sides to cup my breasts. There’s no bra underneath, simply because the shoulder-hugging, billowy top would require a strapless torture contraption that I loathe. A groan, mine and his, quivers between us, and I know he’s delighting in that decision.
Rough fingers knead at my softness, reshaping them beneath the dampened fabric, while his lips eat at me, confident and voracious.
Then he’s tearing away, gulping in a huge lungful, his gaze fiery, possessed as it stares down at me. Without warning, he’s easing me off. My mouth opens to protest, except he’s not pushing me away.
In a quick yank, the part elastic, part button collar gives way to pool at my feet. My breasts bound out, the fierce ache on the tips begging for him. Colin immediately latches on, coolness pressing on the back of my shoulders when it hits me that he’s turned us, my back against the dribbling glass.
“Colin.” A half moan, half plea. Fuck, he’s hungrily sucking on my breasts, one after the other, no doubt leaving marks all over my skin. And I don’t want him to stop. “Colin.”
My fingers dive into his hair, fisting it like my life depends on it. Water rains down my head, my shoulders as he arches me up with a hand at my back.
“You’re even more beautiful than I imagined,” he says, his mouth skidding to my neck.
The breathless revelation swims through my muddled brain. “You pictured me naked?”
His answer is to devour my mouth the way he consumed my breasts seconds before. Vaguely, I’m aware there’s tugging on my lower stomach, the drawstring sash of my pants slackening with each pull and pinch. Ruined silk skitters down my legs.
In the next second, he’s gone. My eyes shoot open to find him on his knees in front of me, going for the skimpy white panties.
