He studies my face, clearly debating whether or not to argue. I make an effort to look calm and collected. After a moment, he laughs. “Quit trying so hard,” he says.
“Quit thinking you have to put your work aside to babysit me.”
“I’ll always put my work aside if you need me.” His voice is so intense—so full of love—that I almost melt on the spot.
“I know.” I lean closer, sighing as he enfolds me in his arms. “And I love you for it. But I promise you that right now, I’m okay. It was just a dream. And, yes, I’m still a little freaked by this thing with Frank. But I’m okay with waiting until you and Ryan learn more about who he is.”
Damien still doesn’t look entirely convinced.
“Go.” I give him a little shove toward the side of the bed. “Go off and earn a living before we have to downsize.”
That earns a laugh. As Damien has explained to me several times—including once with graphs and a chart—he’s now in a position where he actually makes money simply by doing nothing. Apparently, his dollars have started to breed.
“Well, I would hate to have to give up the apartment in Manhattan,” he quips.
“I’d hate for you to have to give up the chocolate company in Switzerland.” I point toward the door. “I love you. Go.”
He nods, then gets off the bed, but not before kissing me so deeply I feel it all the way down to my toes, not to mention other more sensitive parts of my body.
I take his hand and tug him back.
“Oh, no,” he says. “You told me to go.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Did you? So now you’re telling me you want my lips on yours? My tongue tasting your ear, your neck? Are you saying that you want my mouth on your breast, sucking hard and making your nipple so tight you feel the ache all the way down to your cunt?”
I whimper. I’d only been teasing, but he’s making the idea of him staying with me very, very appealing.
“Tell me, baby,” he continues, his voice as sensual as his words. “Are you saying you want me to thrust my fingers deep inside you before I slide them between your lips so you can taste how fucking wet you are? Do you want my mouth on your cunt? My tongue working your clit while I tease your ass with my finger? I want to know, Nikki: do you want me to make you come before I grab your hips and fuck you so hard you come again and again until you’re sore and sated and begging for me to never, ever stop?”
He brushes a soft kiss over my lips, teasing at the end by nipping my lower lip with his teeth before he leans back to look in my eyes. “Come on, baby, say it. Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” I can barely form the word, I’m so limp with desire. “God, yes.”
“Me, too.” He releases my hand, then bends over to chastely kiss my forehead. “Anticipation, baby. I’ll be home by seven.”
“Bastard,” I say with a laugh, then throw a pillow at him as he backs away.
He dodges the pillow, then tosses his hands up in the air. “Hey, I’m only following your orders. Korean executives, remember? Off to earn a living.”
“Following orders, Mr. Stark? And all this time, I thought you were the man who gave the orders.”
“Careful,” he says. “I might have to punish you.”
“Really?” I roll over, letting the sheet fall away as I get up on my hands and knees and give him a very nice view of my bare ass.
I turn my head to the side so that I can see his face—and so that I can also see his erection straining against the trousers of his three-thousand-dollar suit.
“You’re going to pay, baby,” he promises.
“I certainly hope so.” I bite my lower lip and wiggle my ass just a little.
I watch as he slides his hand down to cup his erection, and for a moment I think I may have actually won.
Then the corner of his mouth curves up into a smile. “I’ll see you tonight, Mrs. Stark,” he says. And with a wink, he turns and walks out of the room.
Well, damn.
Chapter 7
Once Damien’s gone, I park myself at the breakfast table and sip on the elixir of life, otherwise known as coffee. I really am less disturbed by the dream now—like all dreams, it’s losing its punch as time goes by. But it’s still lingering in my mind. Not the full dream, but that last pronouncement by Ashley that she would remember it for me.
But what is she remembering?
For that matter, why is my mom thinking about Ashley all of a sudden? Even more, why is she thinking of my dad? As far as I know, until she called me, my mom hadn’t thought of Leonard Fairchild since the day the court granted her divorce after he up and left us one December afternoon.
Not that I remember any of that. I know what Ashley told me, and what little my grandfather said before he passed away. Once or twice I asked my mom about him, but she’d offered only monosyllabic answers to my queries, and after one or two attempts to coax more information, I’d finally given up.
But it’s not just my strange dream and the baffling call from my mother that has me all twisted up. No, on top of that I get to add the mystery of Frank. Maybe he’s simply a client who decided not to intrude on my personal time by introducing himself on the island. Or, alternatively, he could be a raging psychopath out to either destroy me or latch his claws into some of Damien’s money.
I’m hoping for the first. But considering all the past bullshit Damien and I have put up with, I can’t deny that the second is probably a more likely possibility.