RISE - Part One (The RISE Series Book 1) Page 6

  That stops all movement on his part. The eggplant that he was reaching to place on the counter next to the refrigerator hangs in his hand in mid-air.

  "I was just wondering," I say under my breath as I bring the glass to my lips, swallowing too large of a gulp.

  He turns cautiously, his eyes meeting mine as soon as he's facing my direction. "Did you just ask me if I ever have sex with the women I work with?"

  I'm not sure how to answer that or even if it's a real question as opposed to a rhetorical one. He obviously heard me. I simply shrug my shoulders and take another sip of the water.

  He places the eggplant down as he takes a few heavy steps towards me. When he reaches the kitchen island where I'm seated, he rests his elbows on the edge of the counter. He leans forward, his tongue smoothing a path across his upper lip. "You want to know if I've ever fucked a flight attendant on the plane, Tess? Is that what you're asking me?"

  I close my eyes tightly to ward off the mental image of him fucking anyone else. I know that we're not serious and this could end tomorrow, but I want the memory of what happened in his bed today to be untarnished. If I mess that up, it's my own fault for being too curious. "No. I just wanted to know if you…I was curious about whether pilots…"

  "Tess." The movement of his hand brushing across my cheek pulls my eyes open. "Don't ask me about other women and I won't ask you about your popstar ex-boyfriend."

  I nod through a smile. "I won't."

  "Promise?" He leans forward to kiss me. "Promise me we'll leave our past relationships in the past."

  "I promise," I whisper as I pull him into a deep kiss.

  ***

  "You're a really good cook." I wipe my lips with the linen napkin he placed over my lap when I first sat down at the dining room table.

  He'd lit several small candles before he dimmed the lights and poured me a glass of wine. The trout he prepared was succulent and the roasted vegetables that accompanied it were divine. I'm stuffed, content and relieved that all of our conversation since I brought up other women has been centered on my upcoming work in Los Angeles for Gabriel.

  "I travel so much." He pushes the empty plate in front of me to the side. "I have to eat out a lot so when I'm home, I love to prepare my own food."

  "Is your mom a good cook too?" It's a misplaced question but I've been struggling not to ask him outright about his mother and brother. I'd studied the photographs again when he was busy preparing dinner and it's obvious that his relationship with them changed dramatically after his father's death. That, or they just stopped wanting to document their family unit in pictures after losing him.

  His eyes scan my face as if he's searching for some clue about where that question came from. He traces the outline of his fork on the table with his index finger. "She cooked a lot when I was young."

  "She doesn't cook for you anymore?" I push, knowing that I'm wandering into a place that I have no right to be. "Does she live in New York?"

  His hand pulls away from the fork as he fists it. "She lives in Boston. I don't talk to her very often."

  "Why not?"

  He doesn't look up from his plate. It's as empty as mine so anything he sees there has little to do with food and more to do with the jumbled dynamics of his relationship with his mom. "I'm busy. She's busy. She was in Paris visiting my brother."

  "Your brother lives in Paris?" It's a tangent I didn't expect to go on but I'm going to follow-up every detail he's throwing my way.

  "He's been there for a few months. He's coming back to New York soon." He looks past me to the framed photographs. "He's getting married. He's having a baby."

  "That's exciting," I offer quietly. "You'll be an uncle."

  His shoulders surge forward as I say the words. He shakes his head slightly. "An uncle?"

  "Yes," I chuckle. "If your brother and his wife have a baby, you'll be the uncle."

  He pushes the fingers of his left hand through his hair before they settle on his chin. "I hadn't thought about that. It never crossed my mind."

  "Congratulations." I lift my wine glass in the air. "We should toast to that."

  "No," he says gruffly as he pushes both of his hands against the edge of the table. "I can't."

  I lower the glass back down as I watch his tall frame disappear around the corner.

  Chapter 15

  "Some people get freaked out when they realize that they're getting too old to have kids."

  That's Lilly logic for you. I can't be surprised by the offering since I'm giving her only shallow tidbits of information to go on. I didn't say a word about what I'd discovered about Landon's father online. I only told her that I congratulated him on the impending birth of his niece or nephew and he bolted out of the room.

  "I don't think that's it." I nod towards the blueberry muffin she brought me. "Did you bake that?"

  "Clive did," she whispers even though we're completely alone. "He likes to bake. It helps him unwind but he'd flip if he knew I told anyone."

  I rip off a small piece and pop it into my mouth. "This is actually really good. Did he make this from scratch or from a mix?"

  "He did it all from scratch." She follows my lead and takes a piece too. "It sounds like he's almost a good a cook as Landon is."

  After Landon left the table last night, I'd gone into his bedroom and put my dress and shoes back on. When I was smoothing my hair in front of the mirror I saw him walk through the doorway in the reflection.

  He'd apologized profusely for leaving the room but he told me, as I sat on the edge of his bed, that he was still adjusting to the idea of his brother becoming a father. He loved his younger brother, he told me, and he'd love the baby too.

  I'd left after that, telling him that I needed to get home to start some preliminary work on the project for Liore. He hadn't offered to ride the subway with me or walk me part of the way. Instead, he'd held my hand as we moved silently through his apartment and he'd kissed me goodbye at the door.

  I haven't heard from him yet today. Instead of worrying over what I said wrong or what my words stirred up within him, I'd focused on my work. It is my future and I need to keep my head in the game if I'm going to succeed at the task at hand.

  "When do you want me to come over for dinner?" I break off another chunk of the muffin. "I'm anxious to talk to Clive about that project."

  "I'll check with him tonight and let you know." She scoops up the last of the crumbs and licks them off her finger. "What nights are you seeing Landon this week?"

  "We haven't discussed that," I say honestly and without any reservation. We haven't defined things between us and I'm completely good with that. I don't want to rush into anything with a man who travels the world the way he does. I'm not naïve enough to think that he doesn't see other women. It's hard to imagine that while he's in a place like Milan or Paris that he's not enjoying the company of someone else in a hotel room. I'm not about to emotionally invest myself in someone who lives the majority of their life out of a suitcase.

  She eyes me suspiciously before she drops her gaze to her skirt. I watch in silence as she skims her hands over the yellow fabric, brushing away any stray crumbs. "So any night is good for you?"

  Clive Parker is about to offer me another project that will not only help build my business, but it will add a much needed cushion to my bank account too. "I can come over whenever you want me to."

  "That's great." She uncrosses her legs, readying herself to stand. "Haven will love seeing you."

  "I'll love seeing her too. Babies are the best."

  I say the words with the full knowledge that in my world that may very well be true. In Landon Beckett's world it seems that 'baby' is a bad word.

  ***

  "I'd like you to fly out to L.A."

  "You'd like me to fly to Los Angeles?"

  "Yes. At the end of next week," Gabriel qualifies his initial statement. "I want you to meet with the manager of the boutique we're opening there. I'd like you to explain our event to her
."

  There's a thing called a smartphone for that, Mr. Foster.

  "I can do that," I say because I'm holding half of the money I'll make for this project in my hands. Gabriel's assistant had called me down to his office this morning to meet with him briefly. I was surprised when she handed me an envelope containing half of my fee. I wasn't expecting to receive it until closer to the date of the actual project. It's a relief though. It means I can stop worrying about how I'm going to cover the very large long distance bill I know is headed my way. All those cross country calls to the vendors helping me with my project in California are adding up.

  They are still cheaper than a last minute airplane ticket. My expenses are part of my fee so I'm going to have to cover the flight on my own. At least, I can camp out in my dad's extra room for the night before I head back to New York.

  "If you arrange to leave next Friday, I'll make the company jet available to you."

  No. That's my mind playing tricks on me. He didn't just say I could fly on a private jet to L.A., did he?

  "Landon pilots for us occasionally." The way he cocks his brow and smiles at me suggests that Landon may have stopped by this office to share the sordid details of our evening together.

  I shake my head. There's no way someone like Gabriel Foster engages in talking about sex with his friends. Would he? Do men do that? "I didn't know that."

  "I'll have my assistant check with him to confirm his schedule. If he's available, we'll contract him to pilot for you."

  I rub my hands over my face knowing that there's little I can do to stop this freight train. If Gabriel wants Landon to fly me to California on a private jet, who am I to complain?

  Chapter 16

  "I caught an extra job for next Friday." Landon's gaze leaves my face to travel around my barren apartment. "You already know about it though, don't you?"

  The grin on his face adds fuel to the teasing lilt of his voice. He takes a step towards me, pulling his fingers through the belt loops of my faded jeans so he can press my body into his.

  "I don't know what you're talking about. What extra job?"

  His eyes fall to the sheer white sweater I'm wearing. I had pulled it over my head as soon as I got out of the shower after he called. The white bra I have on underneath it is clearly visible but judging by the look on his face, I doubt he cares.

  "I'm flying the most beautiful woman in the world to Los Angeles for an important meeting."

  I try not to let the blush I feel running through me reach my cheeks but it's futile. I bow my head down. "The most beautiful woman in the world?"

  He pulls me even closer to him. "She has thick brown hair. The most intense green eyes I've ever seen and her body is amazing."

  I've never been great at accepting compliments. I've also felt they were offered in the spirit of pity. I know I'm attractive but beautiful is generally a word reserved for women like my cousin, Ivy. I'm pretty or cute. I like what I see when I look in the mirror and if someone asked me before today if I'd change something about myself, I would have had a list too long to rattle off in a minute or two.

  It's not that way now. Today, as I dart my eyes up to meet his, I know that he does see me as beautiful. He's not saying the words to assure me or to bait me into his bed or my own. He's saying the words because it's what he sees when he looks at me.

  "Do you do work for Gabriel often?" I may enjoy the compliments, but a change of subject will help calm my racing heart.

  "Not that often anymore." He brushes his lips against my forehead. "He has other pilots on staff. He offered me this because he knows it means a lot to me."

  "It means a lot to me too," I counter. "Flying isn't my favorite thing but I'm looking forward to this trip."

  "You'll be more comfortable." He leans back and down so he can look directly into my eyes. "Flying on a private jet is a completely different experience than flying commercial. You'll see what I mean once you board."

  I close my eyes not wanting to give anything away. I lost count of how many times I've flown on a private jet. It was a regular occurrence at one point. It was the easiest way for Ansel to hide our relationship from the glaring lenses of the paparazzi and the hopes and dreams of his ardent fans.

  My weekly routine while I was still in college was almost always the same. I'd fly out of Logan Airport in Boston late on Friday nights after classes were done for the week. The pilot would head off to wherever Ansel had to make an appearance or perform and while he captured the imaginations of his fans, I'd sit in a hotel room booked under an alias and study.

  If I was lucky, by my own standards, someone from Ansel's crew would come find me before the after party and I'd sit, sipping a drink, while I watched women my own age falling all over him. At the end of the night, we'd go back to our hotel and he'd fuck me silently.

  If he had too many beers, he may whisper something too quiet for my ears to pick up but I'd know. My heart knew that it was someone else's name. Ansel may never have crossed the line and fucked anyone else physically, but he wasn't always there when he was with me. I was holding him back from the life he wanted.

  "Tess?" Landon's hands inch up my back until they're resting on my shoulders. "You've been on private plans before, haven't you?"

  "Never with you," I say quietly as I cup his face in my hands. "Will there be other people on the flight with us?"

  A small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. "There will be another pilot. There's also going to be someone to help you settle in. I'm not sure which attendant will be assigned the flight."

  "Will we be able to be alone?" I bite my bottom lip as I ask the question. "Can you spend some time alone with me?"

  His dark, smooth laugh fills my apartment. "I'm going to make your wish come true, Tess Marlow. I'm going to fuck this beautiful body when we're thirty thousand feet in the air."

  I tap him on his chest playfully. "I'm still scared of heights. I'll always be."

  "I'll make you forget that fear and everything else."

  Chapter 17

  "I want to be inside of you, Tess," he hisses the words out between clenched teeth. "You have to slow down or I'll come."

  I hear each word he's saying but my body's need to taste him won't let me stop. I'd crawled onto my bed when we both pulled our clothes off. He'd reached to grab my hips, muttering something almost inaudible about wanting to lick me.

  I only hesitated for a beat of my heart before I pushed him onto his back and took his cock in my hands. I'd stared at it before I lowered my tongue to trace a slow path around the head.

  His hands had gotten tangled in my hair as his hips involuntarily bucked off the bed. He spurred me on, not so much with words as with the guttural sounds he made each time I took the full length in my mouth.

  "Please," he says the word much too loudly for the space. "Fuck, please."

  I suck harder, my hands gliding up and down the shaft. I hear my own desire through the moans I'm making each time his hips leave the bed. He's literally consuming my mouth with his body and I'm already close to coming even though he hasn't touched me yet.

  I push my knees apart to gain more traction and just as I do, he takes advantage. He pulls on my shoulders, heaving me up.

  "I want to finish," I whimper. "I'm not done."

  He flips me over until I'm firmly on my back. His large thighs are on either side of me, his hands holding mine against the mattress. "You're done. I need to fuck you."

  I complain under a litany of whispered curse words as I watch him rip the condom package open before he glides it over his cock. He moans from the touch of his own hand so I know that he's ready. He's going to fuck me hard. It's the way I want it.

  He pulls my left leg up as he buries himself in me with one quick, hard thrust. I reach forward, grabbing hold of both of his shoulders. I stifle my desire to scream in his skin and when he pulses his cock deeper into me, I bite his flesh, wanting him to feel the same burst of pain that I do.

  "Jesus, Tess." He
pumps harder, increasing the depth with every movement. "You're going to make me come already."

  I push my head back into the bed linens as I open my eyes to look at his face.

  His head is thrown back, the veins in his neck are thick and pulsing and as he fucks me hard, he grinds his hips into mine, pushing me ever so slowly and deliciously towards the edge of an intense orgasm.

  My hips circle until I feel the heat start at my core. I reach up again, gripping my hands on his biceps. I'm lost to the sensations and the feelings of my own pleasure until I feel his lips fall into mine. He groans deeply as his hips stall and his body releases.

  ***

  "When did you decide to be a party planner?"

  His lips are resting against my cheek. We've been in this same position since he came back to my bed after using the washroom. I knew that he went in there to toss out the condom, but when he came back, he'd checked his smartphone. He had sat on the edge of my bed for more than five minutes, typing out text messages to someone.

  Since I essentially scolded him for asking me about Ansel, I can't exactly question him about who he felt the need to correspond with while he was still naked after fucking me. I don't want to be that girl that gets serious too soon, but this man is different. He's not only amazing in bed; he's fun to be with. He's interesting in ways that Ansel never was.

  "I'm an event planner," I answer with my eyes still closed. "I plan all kinds of events."

  "My bad." He pokes his index finger into my ribs. "Tess Marlow, event planner."

  I smile at the over-the-top sarcasm in his tone. "I wanted to own my own business. This seems like a good choice."

  "You're an event planner because you wanted to own a business?"

  It's an easy explanation for a very complicated path. I first knew that I had a natural talent for drawing interest to events when I was with Ansel. We forged a plan in my dorm room one night of how to get him the attention he needed to launch his music career. Videos of him performing his own songs online were the first step, but we both knew that it would take much more than that to get him noticed. We launched a series of mini events at high schools, shopping malls and bowling alleys. Any place where we could get a few moments of time, in a strategical position within the venue, we would take.