River's Heart Read online

  She fights my grip, evading my eyes.

  I frame her face.

  “Layla?”

  She pouts and looks away. I gently nudge her face to me. Her hands slide on top of mine as she finally brings her gaze to my eyes.

  “Stop doing that,” I say, serious.

  “Doing what?” she asks, surprised, almost on the verge of crying.

  “Freaking out, for fuck’s sake!”

  “I’m not freaking out. I need to go to back to the hotel,” she says.

  “And stop lying to yourself. You freak out over every little thing. Get out of your head once in a while. I’m not kicking you out. We are going to the hotel.”

  “We? You mean...?”

  “Yes. You and me. I’m checking you out of the hotel. All right?”

  A smile lights up her face.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “What if I need to go back home?”

  “You can go home anytime you want, but I have a feeling you don’t want to go home right now. Am I right?” I cut my eyes at her, and she gives me a sweet smile.

  “Fine. Can we go now?”

  She looks at me, grinning.

  Swaying my head side to side, I grab her hand and walk her out of the house.

  2

  The hotel is packed.

  Not surprisingly so. It’s Saturday evening after all. Cars stream in and out. I watch her strutting between rows of limousines before she vanishes inside.

  As much as waiting for her in my car seems to be the sensible thing to do, my gut pushes me out of the door. The last thing I want right now is to grab someone’s attention, so I pick up a cap from the back seat, put it on, and lift the collar of my jacket, hoping to hide my face.

  A lot of people wait in the lobby.

  I sneak inside and spin to a window, not far from the entrance. From time to time, I glance over my shoulder checking the lobby.

  There are several events, I can tell.

  Some groups head to the ballrooms, other to the restaurants. The club and bars must be filled as well. Different sorts of people attend those places.

  Many, especially the bar goers, are looking to catch an easy lay. I can’t blame them. The spot brims with opportunities.

  As the lobby starts to quiet down, I walk to the front desk and pay the bill. The woman behind the counter gives me a double take. Seemingly she has a second thought, dismissing her suspicion.

  Sometimes the obvious things escape detection when they seem unlikely or downright impossible.

  I pay and swiftly move away.

  Planted back near the window, I stare at the long line of cars and limousines slowly crawling outside. Something inside me gives me a little nudge, and I glance over my shoulder again.

  I spot Layla at the front desk. A man stands by her side.

  As the clerk motions to me, explaining something to her, the man drifts his eyes down her body, clearly taken with her.

  His lips move, muttering words I don’t care for. His gaze and wolfish smile spell out for me everything I need to know.

  She flatly ignores him, which makes her even more attractive, and him, more driven.

  She pulls away from the desk and rushes to me while I pace in her direction, setting myself on a collision course with the guy who follows her.

  She grabs my hand as I loop my arm around her waist and pull her to me. The man with the cloudy eyes keeps going, his brain not fully computing.

  As soon as I have him within earshot, I quietly growl at him.

  “Fuck off!”

  A pang of awareness comes to his eyes as he registers me and every bit of my venomous glare. His semblance of an apology gets lost in the background noise.

  “Yeah, yeah... Just fuck off, man.”

  He swiftly swivels around and strides across the lobby.

  The woman at the front desk takes notice of us as two security guys slither down the stairs. She lays her eyes on me and smiles, instant revelation filling her gaze.

  Layla tugs at my hand.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she says.

  I close my arm around her as we rush out the hotel, my lips planting a soft kiss on her hair.

  Back in the car, I shed off my cap and my jacket. She pulls out of hers too. Quiet, she glances out the window as I carefully back up and roll out of the parking.

  Soon we leave the traffic behind.

  “I’m sorry,” she says after a few moments.

  “What for?”

  “That guy... ”

  “Oh... No, no. You don’t have to be sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “You’re quiet.”

  “I’m not angry. Really...”

  Well, I am, but it has nothing to do with her, and she shouldn’t feel sorry because some jerk couldn’t think straight.

  Smiling, I stretch my arm out, roll up the hem of her dress and place my hand on her thigh. Softly, I stroke her skin.

  She leans back into her seat, her muscles tense, her body not moving much.

  She looks at me with dewy eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She nods, a sweet smile clinging to her lips.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask as I notice her nipples poking against her dress.

  A grin tilts my lips.

  “That bad, huh?”

  She nods repeatedly as I let out a soft chuckle.

  “It’s not funny,” she says.

  “I can leave you alone...” I say jokingly, attempting to remove my hand from her.

  She grabs it.

  “No, no. That’s not what I had in mind,” she says, keeping my hand pressed on her thigh, no longer shy about it.

  To be honest, there’s nothing else I want right now than to give her care around the clock.

  “Relax, there’s nothing bad about it. It’s actually pretty darn good... The way your body responds to me,” I say.

  A smile threads through her gaze, her face flushed.

  “Well, I hope it’s good... because I can’t control it.”

  “You don’t have to,” I say, and mean it.

  I don’t want her to hold anything back. Be like everybody else.

  She looks out the window, and silence falls over us. I let my eyes roam over her, soaking in her long-fingered hands, her delicate profile and silky hair.

  She’s so alive and mysterious, hungry for love, and yet deep down, I sense her so fragile.

  “You know...” she says softly, her voice sounding different, sad and profound as if she’s given some thought to the words she’s about to say. “I’ve never felt like that before.”

  Her words flow through me, making my heart race. Moments tick by before she speaks again.

  “It’s so intense it blows my mind. I’m really not freaking out on you. I’m just freaked out,” she says, the tone of her voice mellow and sweet.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her head turned to me.

  My hand grips the wheel while my eyes stay rooted on the road.

  She shifts her gaze back to the window and presses her brow against the glass. The streetlights cast a faint glow over her face.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, River... And I knew right from the start... The first time I saw you on that stage, and you looked up at me and put me on the spot. I knew right then, but it was so hard to believe. I never thought you'd be someone on a stage, and even if you were, I didn’t think you’d have eyes for me. It just didn’t seem possible...” she says and pauses again.

  I steal a glance in her direction, but she doesn’t look at me, her smooth voice floating in the air again.

  “That’s why I fought myself... I’ve had my heart broken by a lie before... And there isn’t a bigger illusion than someone on a stage. I didn’t want that pain. I hated the idea I was just another butterfly lured by the light, a crazed woman falling for a man with power, yet here I am. These past weeks, I’ve done things I’ve never thought I
would. And this is the truth. I wish I could tell you something else, but that’s all I have.”

  Her words echo in my ears, spurring sweet emotions in my heart.

  “I’ve been abandoned before... By choice, by design, through abject betrayal. The pain is the same, so is the fear. I’ve never learned how to shake it off, but I didn’t learn how to shut down my heart either. I know I might fall and crash, and if that time comes, I’ll burn for you. In that sense, I am ready for you, and I’m not afraid.”

  A few more moments pass by before I glance at her again, her eyes on me this time, filled with a smile. She drinks me in for a moment, studying my expression, and then she slowly peels my hand off her thigh, brings it to her lips, and kisses my fingertips, a lustful grin glinting in her eyes.

  Swirling her tongue around my fingers, she’s gently sucking them as my eyes dart back and forth making sure we’re still on the road and not on someone’s lawn.

  Propping herself on her knee, she shifts her position and leans over to my side. She wraps one hand around my neck, the other slipping inside my shirt, her fingers deftly popping my shirt’s snaps open.

  My foot goes easy on the gas.

  Smoothly, she runs her fingers over my chest, and then my abs, and tension whirls between my legs.

  Soft and hot, her lips trail the side of my neck, and then my chest, planting kisses all along. Her tongue strokes my skin, her teeth scraping my nipples as her hand works through the last snaps of my shirt before it slides down, and without hesitation palms my cock.

  Rock hard, I stir in her hand.

  Changing my position, I try to ease some of the pressure, at the same time, sliding my hand up her thigh.

  Kissing her way down to my groin, she keeps working me through my jeans, her hand going up and down my length.

  I can no longer suppress a groan.

  Swiftly, her fingers coax my jeans open and curl around my shaft, her mouth already molding on the crown as her lips roll down, and her tongue sweeps my flesh.

  Fire flows through my blood, dashing up my spine.

  Propping my knee against the door, I open my legs and push my groin up, filling her mouth. Tingles swirl over my balls, a growl jamming in my throat.

  I push my hand up between her thighs, pull her panties to the side and slowly push a finger inside. Tightening her mouth on me, she muffles a squeal, and my multitasking goes right out the window.

  Oh, fuck.

  Lights flicker behind us as we’re now basically crawling.

  “Damn it...”

  I wrap an arm around her, steer sharply to the left, drive through a few hard turns, and stop in a deserted parking lot.

  I hit the brakes, shove my hand into her hair, pull her to me, and lock her mouth. Her hand slides into my hair as well as our hungry lips meet in a kiss.

  Her moans roll into my mouth. My hand goes up her thigh again.

  I push her dress up, slide her panties down, and thrust my fingers back in her. She sucks the air out of me as I finger fuck her to her orgasm, her gushing dripping all over my hand.

  Panting and shuddering, she moans deliciously, still throbbing when I grab the back of her hair, and unapologetically tear her mouth away from my lips, guiding it down to my lap.

  In one smooth, swirling motion, her tongue strokes my cock, and wipes the tip clean, licking the bead of pre-cum.

  I take my hands off her, push my head against the headrest, and let her loose.

  She curls one hand around my cock, the other stroking my balls as her tongue slides, hot and hungry, up and down my shaft.

  I push the seat back, shift my body, and grab a fistful of her hair. Holding her head against my thrusts I start fucking her mouth.

  Muffled groans fill the air, a film of tears rolling over her eyes as I hit the back of her throat.

  I gently pull her hair away so I can see her face.

  Her hand glides up and down, her tongue and lips matching the rhythm while her side glance melts my balls.

  She takes me deeper.

  Blood pools in her face, and her gaze gets heavy like mine as her mouth tightens around me and her moans start sounding urgent. Just as her thighs begin to tremble I slide my fingers back into her.

  She clamps her walls on me, tight and wet and throbbing. I stroke her, and she blows me harder, her pulsations quickening fast, her body stiffening, her thighs clenching.

  She freezes in that sweet fucking moment before she comes undone, her chest rumbling with pleasure, the tension instantaneously surging through me. I grip the back of her neck, and with my last functioning cell of my brain, I think about pulling out.

  Instead, I keep her sealed to me.

  A hard shudder rams through my body, a roar filling my chest as my warm release hits her throat. Pleasure sweeps through me at light speed, her steamy mouth still wrapped around me, stroking me.

  Smiling, she crashes in my lap, her hair and dress spilled.

  She looks up at me, dazed, as my lips curl into a smile. I push up in the seat, pull her to me, and lock her lips, kissing her as if she’s mine.

  We pull next to the black truck parked in front of my house.

  “Who is this?” she asks.

  “That’s us.”

  Her eyes widen with surprise, a small smile playing on her lips.

  “Us??”

  “You’ll see,” I say, grinning, before I jump out of the car.

  Shrugging my jacket on, I walk around.

  I hold the door open for her, furtively running my eyes on her as she climbs out.

  Entangled hair frames her flushed face. Her lips are still swollen, her eyes gleaming a smile. I snake an arm around her shoulders as she loops hers around my waist.

  “Who lives here?” she asks as we walk by the guest house.

  “Steve, my housekeeper, my driver, and a bunch of sex workers,” I say seriously.

  She looks at me, amused at first, and then her smile dies out.

  “You’re fucking with me...”

  I chuckle.

  “That’s not funny,” she says.

  “No, it’s not, but you sure are...”

  We push through the main door and step inside.

  A stunning view fills the house, the glow of the lit candles and the music of a piano flooding the place. She heads for the shower in the master bedroom while I take the stairs to the upper level.

  A half hour later, I exit the bathroom and throw a pair of jeans and a shirt on. Without bothering to button it up, I amble back to the living room.

  Wrapped in a soft light, she sits at the dinner table, her gaze set on the glimmering lights of the city. Not far from her, the sheer white drapes blow in the breeze.

  I pace myself, my footsteps silent as I savor the view.

  Her hair drapes over her shoulders, and her chin rests on her clasped hands, her long legs crossed. My gaze sweeps her silhouette, from her heels to the long, silky red robe, flattering her body.

  “These are for you,” I say.

  Shifting in her seat, she glances up at me.

  I set a few shopping bags on the floor.

  “It’s cold where we’re going,” I say, responding to her questioning look.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Up north.”

  “When do we come back?”

  My gaze sweeps her body again for a moment.

  ”Depending on how the night goes on, we’ll be back by Wednesday. “

  “What do you mean by how the night...?”

  My lips curve into a slow smile as I tip my head back and narrow my eyes at her. Crimson to her hairline, she swings her gaze away from me and focuses on the shopping bags.

  Riffling through them, she unpacks a winter jacket, long sleeves shirts, gloves, a pair of jeans, and boots.

  Intrigued, she checks the labels and sizes.

  She glances at me.

  “Who picked these?” she asks, her voice a bit snappy.

  “Are they good?” I toss back at her
, smiling.

  “Yes, they are. Who picked them?” she asks, all riled up.

  “Why do you care?” I throw at her as I coast toward the kitchen.

  She follows me, agitated like a bloodhound.

  “I hope you like Italian... ” I say.

  Without waiting for her response, I place a pot filled with water on the stove and pull the ingredients out of the fridge.

  Disbelief rolls over her face.

  “Are you... going to cook?” she asks.

  “Yes. Why? Are you... afraid?”

  “Do you do this often?”

  “Eating?”I ask jokingly and pivot to the stove.

  Her stare sears my back. I swivel around.

  She sits on the kitchen island, examining me. Propped on her hands, she leans back, her breasts spilling out her robe.

  “Cooking for guests,” she says, and for a moment I have no idea what we’re talking about.

  “Hmm?”

  “Guests?”

  “Um. Yeah. No. I don’t... You’re a bit of a distraction,” I say, pointing at her with the kitchen knife, my eyes sliding down on her.

  “Am I?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I place the knife on the table, and lean closer to her, my hands planted on the kitchen island on either side of her. My shirt pulls open, and her eyes slip to my torso.

  A playful smile tilts her lips.

  “I’ll let you cook if you tell me who shopped for me.”

  My eyes dip to her lips.

  “Women. Can’t make them happy...”

  I shift my gaze up. She arches an eyebrow.

  “Yes?”

  “My assistant,” I say, mesmerized by her eyes.

  “Your assistant? Hmm... Let me guess... Is your assistant, a man? Woman? An older lady, perhaps?”

  “I have to disappoint you, baby. She’s about your age and...”

  I give her a swift once-over, a wolfish smile on my lips.

  “... about your size.”

  Her lips press into a tight line. Partly enraged, partly amused, she tugs at her robe, suddenly flushed.

  Interesting.

  “Do you need a fan?” I ask facetiously.

  She shoots me a pointed look, feigning outrage, not that she fools anyone.

  “Can you tell me more about your assistant?”