And I fall.
And I fly.
His arms wrap around my knees while my body shakes with the most powerful, most delicious orgasm I’ve had so far. I thread my hands through his thick, wavy hair, feeling overwhelmed, satisfied, grateful. After the last ripple has died out, I lie back against the pillow, enjoying the feeling of total relaxation in every part of my body.
Darrel crawls away, raining soft kisses on the inside of my thighs. He sits up, admiring the undone state of me, and looking pleased with himself. My chest swells with a feeling. It’s a deep, intense, dangerous one. A forbidden one, given Darrel’s terms.
I’m not doing a particularly good job guarding my heart, am I?
Quick, a distraction!
I prop myself up on my elbows and give Darrel an annoyed look. “Sadly, drinking cocktails has consequences.”
“Are you nauseous?” A frown creases the space between his eyebrows.
“No, silly, I just need to use the bathroom. But I’m too melted, too slack to go there.”
Visibly relieved, he moves to get up from the bed. “I’ll carry you!”
“What? No, please, there’s no need. I can manage—”
But he isn’t listening. He scoops me up in his strong arms and carries me out into the entryway, pausing only to kick open the bathroom door.
After he deposits me safely in front of the toilet, I point at the door. “Out!”
Thankfully, he doesn’t argue. He turns on his heels and leaves me be.
After I’ve done my business, I return to bed.
“My turn.” He heads to the bathroom but not before issuing a warning, “Don’t move! Don’t you dare bail on me now, Stella!”
Pff, like I would ever want to!“No chance.”
As he disappears into the bathroom, something draws my eye to the nightstand. Darrel’s phone has lit up with a text. The sender’s name—Theodor—is familiar. I heard Darrel mention it once before, right after his SWAT team showed up at our house. The message itself is very brief. It reads, “Was the lady swayed by your charm?” There’s a smiley face after the question mark at the end.
And just like that, the beautiful castle I’d built in the sand melts away, licked by a tidal wave. Even someone as naïve as me can tell that the lady in Theodor’s message has nothing to do with Stella Jezequel. She’s someone else, someone Darrel was planning to “charm.”
When he returns, I’m balled up by the headboard.
His smile fades. “Are you OK? What’s wrong?”
“Is Theodor the VIP who jumped from the helicopter with you at the end of January?” I point at his phone.
Darrel picks it up and reads the text. “Yes.”
“Who’s the lady?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
He averts his gaze.
Hang on…When we were in the bar, and I asked if he was still single, he hesitated briefly before saying yes. Could it be that he met someone over the intervening three weeks? Was Darrel planning to spend the evening, and the night, with her before I told him I’d meet him in Annecy?
“You and that woman…” I pause, too chicken to ask if they’re dating. “What Theodor is inquiring about, is it personal or work related?”
“Both.”
