After the good-morning-fuck, we dozed a bit. We needed it. The sex was intense with her, and a little rest helped us both come down to earth afterward.
It was already beginning.
The change in me I was worried about.
But I knew I couldn’t do a thing about it anymore than I could get enough of Gabrielle Hargreave. I wished I could make time slow because the sands in the hourglass were pouring out far too quickly for me. I dreaded the moment when she would say I had to take her back to London where she lived and worked.
I didn’t want to take her back.
I didn’t even want to go back to London because I knew everything would be different there. It wouldn’t be like this was here with her right now. Easy. So good. Fun.
I wanted her to stay at Donadea with me so I could hear her tell more outrageously mocking fairy tales. To hear the sound of her teasing in that California-girl Yank accent she spoke in. To laugh together in bed over funny, stupid, nothingness. To watch her sleeping, or see the happiness she felt when she did something for the first time, like the night flight in my plane. Just simple things.
She opened her eyes a few moments later to find me watching her again, but this time she just smiled and looked happy.
“Let’s go swimming,” I blurted.
“What?”
“A body of water—you and me moving around in it.”
“You have a pool? Here?”
“Yeah, I like to swim. I’ve been having the place renovated slowly and the indoor pool house was done up last year. From the outside it looks like it belongs with the rest of the place, but inside it’s very modern. Sort of like this room.”
“I wondered about that. I like your bedroom, but I also loved the traditional décor in the room where I stayed last time.”
“So, do you think I should preserve everything at Donadea in its original form and design, then?”
She seemed to really think about it for a minute before answering. “Well, I’m all for preserving history, of course, but this is also your home—your sanctuary—and you love being here, so I think you need to make it fit so it’s comfortable for you to enjoy when you visit the place.”
I kissed her softly. “You just scored some points, Miss Hargreave. I like your answer.”
She did a fist pump and mouthed the words, “I scored points.”
“You so did. Now, do you want to have a swim with me?”
“I don’t have a suit to wear.”
“Wear your knickers if you like.”
“Will anybody see?”
“Just you and me.” I gave her arse a playful smack before hopping out of bed to find some shorts to throw on.
When I came out of my closet her knickers were back on and she was coming out of the bathroom putting her arms through the straps of her bra, trying to do it up.
“Absolutely not.” I snatched that thing out of her hands and tossed it over my shoulder.
She squinted her pretty eyes, sending me what I was sure had to be something along the lines of What is your problem, you fucking arsehole! The feisty kitten was ready to hiss at me, and I absolutely loved it.
I palmed both of her breasts, one in each hand, and held them reverently. “Don’t ever cover these when we are alone.”
Her frown turned soft in an instant, her mouth sliding into a grin. “Why, Mr. Everley, I do believe you are enamored with my breasts.”
I gave her a look. “Not even close, my lovely Miss Hargreave.”
“No?” She frowned.
“You have the most spectacular set of tits I’ve ever had the pleasure of viewing in my life. And enamored is a ridiculous word to describe my feelings for your tits.”
Her mouth went wide in surprise as she laughed at me.
I buried my face in the decadent cleavage I held in my hands. “Enslaved is a much more appropriate word.”
She scoffed and pushed my head away. “You’re insane.”
“Insane over your tits.”
“Well, that’s really good to know, Mr. Everley.” She put her hands on her hips. “I assume the pool house is a distance from this bedroom, and I need to wear something to cover me. I’m basically naked.”
My turn to pout.
“They are too perfect to be covered up and I want to look at them.”
“You’ve made that point abundantly clear and I get it. You like breasts—”
“Very partial to yours in particular.”
She stonefaced me again. “Are you deaf?” She pointed to her chest. “If you want me to step out of this room with you, then you’d better find me a robe, or a shirt of yours, or a sheet, or something to cover up these spectacular tits until we arrive at the pool.”
“Fine.” Well, she did have a point there. Finnegan was around, and Marjorie could show up anywhere at any time. Better not shock the staff with my debauchery on a Sunday morning. I went back into my closet and dug around until I found something that looked promising. It was blue, made of silk and had a belt. It also looked like something Finnegan might wear to bed, but it was indeed a robe. I really had no idea where half of the shit in my house came from, which was why I wanted to go through decade’s worth of the accumulated crap systematically.
Hopefully get rid of most of it.
“Will this do?” I showed her.
Her eyes widened. She fingered the fabric and checked the label. “What is with the smoking jackets and this place?”
“Huh?” I asked.
“Smoking jackets. Fancy robes rich men used to wear for lounging and—”
“Smoking I gather?”
She rolled her eyes at my joke and took the thing off its hangar, holding it out to look more closely. “This is definitely vintage, Ivan, and it has to be at least sixty years old. Sharkskin silk out of the fifties if I had to guess. I buy vintage dresses sometimes so I know a little about heirloom clothing, and they don’t come with cheap price tags. This looks expensive to me, and probably valuable. I’d hate to damage it. Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. You said you had to have a robe to cover up your spectacular tits from view, and so you shall.” I took it from her and held it open for her to slip on. “You may keep it if you like it. I don’t even know why it was in my closet. I never wore it.”
She slid one arm through and then the other, easing into it carefully as if she wasn’t worthy of the damn thing. That really irritated me. I was jealous of a goddamn fucking robe—and she didn’t know it yet, but as soon as we got into the pool house, I’d be tearing it off her.
“It really is beautiful,” she said as she ran her hands down the front and reached for the belt. “It fits me pretty well, although I don’t think it was ever meant to be this long. Definitely sized for a man.” She looked down at her toes peeping out from the hem at the floor. The sleeves were a little long too, but overall the whole effect was really fucking sexy. Her nipples had hardened and I could see the perfect outline of her breasts under the thin silk. Knowing she was basically naked underneath that robe, and also what we’d been doing together for the last hours, was a pretty powerful force to fight off.
But I didn’t want to fight anything off with her.
I wanted to keep her—something I’d not wanted to do with anybody for a very long time. I understood I needed to be careful with how to proceed with Gabrielle. She was different. Not typical in how she viewed the world, or even in how she behaved within it. Somehow, I knew the things I’d done before to charm women, were not going to work with her. She was also a runner, I’d learned. She ran away when she was scared.
But this was the heart of my problem, and I needed to figure her out.
“Beautiful. I agree, Miss Hargreave.” Again, she had no idea I was referring to her and not the pretentious robe, which was now preventing me from enjoying the view of her spectacular tits.
Gabrielle was that perfectly unspoiled.
Ikept my promise and ditched her robe as soon as we got into the pool house. We held hands and jumped in together. She dared me to do it. Competitive Gabrielle was as incredibly sexy as the submissive Gabrielle I’d just had underneath me taking my cock to perfection.
She looked like a water goddess in my pool. Wet hair plastered over her skin and breasts. Hard nipples peeking through enough to tease me. Absolutely no hesitation when I challenged her to a race of four laps. She even gave me some opposition because she was a strong swimmer, but I didn’t let her win. I guessed right. She would’ve been greatly displeased if I had.
She got back at me for the win by mocking me with a glimpse of her arse in those thong knickers, and then topped that off with a huge kick of water to the head.
“That’s it, you’re done,” I said, going down and tugging her underwater with me. She surprised me again by seizing my face and kissing me before I could even do much more than grab her. I reluctantly brought us up to the surface still kissing, and wondering how she’d turned everything around on me.
I got my hands under her bum and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around my hips and released my lips, still holding my face in her two hands.
Her green eyes looked very mischievous. “You were saying something about me being done, Mr. Everley? Are you sure, because it doesn’t feel like it to me.” She ground her hips forward and right down on my awakening cock.
Instinct took over and I thrust back, my thoughts instantly going forward with possibilities of where we were going to shag next. Edge of the pool? Chaise lounge? Grotto shower?
God, she was so perfect, and I was so…captivated. I lowered my lips to lick at her wet nipple before closing around it, drawing it in for a full suck. She leaned back to give me more access and gasped a small sound of pleasure. So responsive and lush like this—
The echoing creak of the doors opening got our attention when Finnegan entered with a rolling cart and wearing an apron. Gabrielle squeaked and slid down in the water, arms crisscrossed over her bare breasts. I stepped in front of her to shield her a little more, and gave Finnegan a face full of, What in the hell are you up to, old man?
GABRIELLE
Thank God Ivan stepped in front of me. Mr. Finnegan was here and had to have seen me cavorting naked in the pool with his employer. Mortified much? I couldn’t even begin to imagine what he thought of me now, considering my emotional state the last time he’d laid eyes on me.
“Breakfast, my lord, for you and Miss Hargreave. Welcome back to Donadea, miss.”
I peered around Ivan but kept my body under the water. “Hello, Mr. Finnegan. Thank you for the breakfast, and the welcome.” God, I wanted to duck completely under and swim away.
He tilted his head at me politely. “Miss Hargreave, you left some of your clothes behind in your room when you departed previously. I’ve taken the liberty of laundering your things, and have placed them in Mr. Everley’s bedroom should you like to…have them back in your possession.” He cleared his throat and stood ramrod straight waiting for me to respond.
“Oh.” My muddy clothes I’d left on the floor. “Thank you. How sweet of you to do that for me. I figured you would have thrown them out.”
I nodded in thanks like an idiot, hovering behind Ivan. Two thoughts came to mind: I now had some clothes to wear which was a good thing, but the evidence I’d just spent the night in bed sexing up the boss, out there for open speculation—not so much. I’m sure my face was the color of a beet. And why was Ivan so silent just standing in the pool saying nothing like a mute? I poked him in the side with my elbow.
I felt him react and peer down at me in question.
I kept my fake smile plastered to my face trained on Mr. Finnegan. Ivan could swing in the breeze for all I cared. This was an every-man-for-himself situation.
“Breakfast, huh? Thank you, Finnegan,” he said slowly.
“My pleasure, my lord. Oh, I nearly forgot to mention, a package arrived a short while ago, addressed to you from Mr. Brinkley. I’ve delivered that to your bedroom as well.”
“Ah, excellent,” Ivan answered stiffly.
“Shall I pour?” Mr. Finnegan asked with an outstretched arm toward the cart.
Ivan just stared at him, as if he was trying to make sense of the question, then he glanced down at me again. “Shall Finnegan pour, Gabrielle?”
What? Why are you asking me if Mr. Finnegan shall pour?
“I-I g-guess so if he wants to.” Oh. My. God. Did I just say that out loud? This was like a really bad British comedy. Real bad.
I so needed out of this pool and the smoking jacket wrapped around me again.
Ivan grinned down at me, processing my response, and no doubt finding great amusement in my trapped state of naked and wet. He looked like he was trying to suppress some straight-out laughter, but he just turned back and answered Mr. Finnegan easily. “Miss Hargreave says yes.”
Mr. Finnegan took that information and proceeded to pour the tea, or coffee, or whatever he’d brought for us.
I shoved Ivan with both of my hands and hissed, “Get out! And bring me a towel so I can get out—and the robe, too.”
He raised his eyebrows at me.
I kicked him in the shin from under the water. “Hurry, before he finishes pouring!”
Ivan did it for me. He wore that signature cocky smirk on his face the whole time he helped me get out of the pool, dry off with a towel, and still had it while he blocked the view from Mr. Finnegan so I could dress in the robe, but he did do what I asked of him.
“Finnegan adores you, you know,” Ivan said before putting a forkful of eggs in his mouth.
“What I know, is that your statement couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“He does.”
“No, he does not adore me, Ivan. The poor man must think I am the biggest psycho on the planet. You really have no idea what a mess I was that night.” I shook my head in disgust. “Just remembering how I was in front of Mr. Finnegan then, horrifies me now, and just again—almost as much.”
“You being gracious and very sweet to him is what I just witnessed. He is putty in your hands. And Finnegan doesn’t deliver breakfast.” He took another bite. “Ever.”
“He has always been so kind to me.”
“That’s because he adores you,” he said patiently.
I sipped my tea with milk, made perfectly as if I had prepared it. He must have noticed what I used from the tea cart in the bedroom where I’d slept before. And he had my clothes, too. Mr. Finnegan was my true champion.
“Gabrielle?”
I looked up. Ivan wore a serious expression on his face, telling me he wasn’t kidding around at the moment. “Yes?”
“I really do feel like a gormless prick for what happened that night.”
I could tell he was being sincere just by the expression of regret in his eyes.
“It’s all right. The whole thing was like a Twilight Zone episode. And not all of it was your fault.”
He shook his head at me. “I was terribly out of line, and I am so sorry you were frightened and ill while you were here. Finnegan said you were in tears.”
“He did?”
“Oh yes. I got the dreaded baronial address from him that morning just like I did a few minutes ago when he brought this breakfast in here.”
“What does that mean, baronial address?”
“When he uses my lord on me, Finnegan is undoubtedly telling me to fuck off.”
“Wow. That’s just crazy,” I said in disbelief, wondering what the story was there.
“I hope you forgive me someday.”
“It’s okay, Ivan. I’m over it. I understand the mistaken identity now, and you should know I was extra fragile that night because I was coming down with strep throat. I am not a weepy girl normally, but I felt so physically ill on top of everything else, I guess I just couldn’t cope. Mr. Finnegan definitely saw me at my very worst, times a hundred.”
He tilted his head a little, his expression a bit unbelieving, and said, “I’m glad Finnegan was so helpful and kind to you then. At least somebody was.”
“He tried to feed me breakfast the next morning. Even tempted me with fresh scones, but I declined in my delirium.” I picked up a scone with jam off my plate and took a bite of the decadent treat. “Mmm…I totally should have stayed just for his scones.”
He smiled at my comment but his smile looked forced, as if he still felt badly for what had happened with us. So many questions rolled through my mind about Ivan Everley. Why the escorts? Surely he’d have zero problems finding a woman willing to give up some sex. Why was he still single? I’d guess he was in his early thirties, and his wealth was obvious, so why still unattached when he looked the way he did? Smoking hot gorgeous. Even now, I could hardly believe I was here with him enjoying this intimate breakfast in his private indoor pool house that looked like something out of Architectural Digest with its dark wood ceiling, glass tiles and slick lighting, stocked with modern comforts like chaise lounges and grotto showers. Why was he still pursuing me even after discovering I wasn’t one of his escorts? Why did he want me back at Donadea so badly? Why was he paranoid about being blackmailed?
“What are you thinking about, Gabrielle?”
I decided to tell him the truth. “I’m thinking about what a mystery you are to me. Why do you hire escorts to be with you? I know now we first met under mistaken identity, that you thought I was Maria-the-escort in my green dress, but now that you know I’m not, why do you want to be with me? And why did you want me here enough to kidnap me from Brynne and Ethan’s wedding?”
He never took his eyes off me as he answered my questions one by one. “It’s you that I find a mystery, so I suppose we’re even there.” He tapped his long fingers on the edge of the table. “The escorts are now out of the picture for good, but I used the service because I—I don’t have a great deal of trust in my past relationships with…women, I suppose. The women I’ve known all had a purpose in being with me, or merely wanted something from me…but not necessarily me, if that makes any sense.” He reached across the table and tapped the top of my hand with his index finger. “Now you, Miss Hargreave, have been an obsession since our first meeting, it’s true. But you keep running away from me for some reason and I need to put a definite stop to that.” He sent me a friendly wink. “I contacted the service the day after the Mallerton Gala and arranged another date with Maria, and was devastated when you didn’t show up. Honest to God truth.” He caught me with the intensity in his deep green eyes and gave me a really beautiful smile, the gap between his front teeth making him appear very sincere and real to me right now. He picked up my hand in his and intertwined our fingers. “And I kidnapped you last night and brought you here, because when fate dropped you right back into my lap after two month’s wait, after I’d given up hope of ever finding you again, I decided not to be a fucking moron and waste my golden opportunity.”
Wow. Not at all what I expected him to tell me. At all.
He was devastated when I didn’t show up as Maria?
His answers were a little much for me to accept, but it was hard not feel the sincerity from him.
“But why me and not somebody who runs in your circles?”
“Because nobody that runs in my circles, as you put it, has made me feel this good in a very long time, Gabrielle.”
I had to look down at my plate. It was still difficult to take in what he was telling me, but I did believe him. Ivan had a way of presenting himself as truthful, or it sure felt like it to me.
“Because nobody has made me feel this good in a very long time, Gabrielle.”
For whatever reasons, I made him feel good. Did he even know how good being with him made me feel?
“Look at me.” He spoke the words firmly, but not in a harsh way. Just as meaningful and compelling as he’d spoken to me from the very beginning.
I did.
I looked up at Ivan in all his glory: long hair wet from the pool and scraped back by his fingers combing through it; golden bare chest dotted with a few lingering drops of water; tattoo of what looked like the zodiac symbol for Sagittarius on his left shoulder, only revealed as he sat relaxed on a towel across the table from me.
He hadn’t let go of my hand either.
Devastatingly attractive, and deadly to my will to remain aloof and unaffected by him. I don’t think it was possible for me to be unaffected.
There was far too much gorgeousness blessed upon Ivan Everley for one human man to own, but very blessed he had been.
And if he didn’t watch out he would make me fall for him, with his soulful words and seductively commanding ways. If it wasn’t too late for me already.
“I’ve never brought a woman here before in the way you’re here with me right now.” His eyes held onto me. “You are the first, Gabrielle Hargreave. And furthermore, I think you should stay and do the job of cataloging my ridiculously large collection of paintings.” He picked up my hand and brought it up to his lips still entangled in his own. “I want you here. Very much.”
Damn, he is good.
His expression was one of adoration, respect, desire. I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to be the object of his desire.
Perhaps it was already too late for me.
Perhaps I was already falling.
