Ruthless Rival

"She told him to annoy him."

"It worked."

"It did?" she asks.

I nod. "Briar is afraid of commitment."

"Aren't they engaged?"

"Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"It was for Preston's benefit."

"Oh. I think the baby making is too."

Because Preston is dying.

They want their kid to meet his grandfather.

"It's fucked up, but it's sweet," she says.

"Is it likely?"

"No," she says. "But he'll probably be able to tape the sonogram to the fridge. Pat her belly. Well, if she lets anyone pat her belly. I can't see it."

"Me either."

"It seemed easy for her," she says. "Falling for him. Maybe it's easier, because she's so strong, and he's—he's strong too. But not the way you and I are. Not unyielding."

"I can be yielding."

"Can you?"

I don't know. But that's not what she's asking. Not exactly.

She's asking if I can fall for her.

And that—

That's a terrifying question.

The lights dim.

The curtain draws.

At once, every ounce of Vanessa's attention goes to the stage. She watches, rapt, as the performers take their place, fill the space with beautiful vocals.

Italian.

I don't know a single word.

But I'm still transfixed.

Not on the show.

On Vanessa.

Even when the first act finishes, when we break at intermission, meet my family—and hers—at the venue's bar.

Opal announces her plans to get coffee with Briar and Liam after the show. She won't be home until midnight.

One, if I make an exception to her curfew—which she really doesn't need to follow, since she's an adult.

I don't argue.

I give her an extra hour.

Then I fall into the show, into the spell of watching Vanessa watch the rest of the opera.

It's transcendent.

But not the way she means.

In a way that's much more exhilarating.

And risky as hell.

Chapter Twenty-Four

SIMON

We say quick goodbyes. Everyone—her family and mine—wants us alone.

Harrison is the only person with a hint of restraint. He shakes his head, suggests people let us orchestrate our sex lives on our own, even as Lee winks you know you want it.

Even Adam shoots me a this is good, hold on to it look.

He winks. The way Bash would.

If he were here—

He'd mock me for my inability to articulate feelings other than hostility. Then pat me on the back for finally finding the courage to do something brave.

Negotiating with a guy who's richer than you isn't brave, Simon. What's at stake? Money? You don't need money.

Pride, sure.

But you've got plenty to spare.

Your heart?

Now, that's risky.

That's brave.

Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori.

Love conquers all.

Let us cede to love.

That's brave.

Go get 'em, tiger.

My thoughts swirl, but there's no heaviness to them.

No ugly memories.

Or desire for vengeance.

Or twisted connections.

Only a wish to honor my promise.

To honor his memory.

This is what he stood for—

Love without fear.

He was wrong. He took it too far. Threw away any hint of rationality.

But, here, helping Vanessa into the limo, I almost understand.

Rationality is nothing in the face of passion.

My body is buzzing.

My heart is pounding.

My thoughts are long gone.

I only want her.

All of her.

Every way I can have her.

I slide inside.

The driver closes the door. Steps into the front. Rolls the partition.

"How far is it to your place?" Vanessa smooths her dress over her legs.

"Only a few blocks from yours."

"How long?" Her chest heaves with her inhale.

"Ten minutes." I turn toward her.

Her eyes meet mine. "Not long."

"Are you that impatient?"

"Yes."

"But you'll still wait." I cup her neck. Run my thumb over her soft skin. "Try to outlast me."

She nods.

"You're naked under here?"

"Only the shoes." She pulls her dress up an inch.

"All night?"

"All night."

"Show me."

"Help me." She turns so her back is to me.

I run my fingers down her spine, until they brush the curving backline of the dress.

Then the zipper.

Lower.

Lower.

Until my fingers brush the small of her back.

"Simon." It falls off her lips as a plea.

But I don't give her more.

I don't move faster.

I trace the same slow line.

Up.

Down.

Again and again.

Her breath hitches.

Her fingers curl into the soft leather.

I tease her again and again. Then I press my lips to her neck. She shudders as I scrape my teeth against her skin.

"Simon." She reaches back. Grabs my thigh. "Fuck. Like that." She tugs at my slacks. "Not harder."

"Nothing rough."

She nods. Repeats the words, like she's not sure where she heard them.

I tease her with soft scrapes of my teeth.

I trace the line down her spine.

Then up again.

Again and again.

Until the car turns onto my street.

And I slip my hand into her dress. Cup her breasts with my palms.

She groans as I run my thumbs over her nipples. "Fuck."

I draw slow circles.

She melts into me, surrenders to sensation.

To the feeling of being on the edge.

Her eyes flutter closed.

Her lips part with a groan.

Her nails dig into my slacks.

I tease her again and again.

Until I can't take it anymore.

Then I pull her into my lap, so her ass is against my pelvis, so she can feel me, hard against her.

"Simon." She rocks against me. "Fuck."

I kiss her neck as I toy with her breasts.