The Rebel Heir Page 9

  They moved in sync in a wicked back-and-forth motion. Desire and passion fueled them. Moans and pants and hot, whispered words of praise and pleading filled the air as they gave in to the attraction that had pulsed between them from the first sight of one another.

  The months of denying himself the treats of another woman now had him feeling quite wild. He had to fight not to give in to it and perhaps thrust too hard or deep. The urge to leave love marks upon her neck and breasts filled him, but again he resisted the temptation to suckle and bite her flesh. He felt excitement and pleasure. His body began to seek and crave his release, but he eyed her intently as he honed in on a change in her intimacy that hinted she, too, was near climax.

  He took the lead, delivering deep, slow strokes that made her eyes seem to glaze as she bit her bottom lip.

  He raised one of her legs over his arm and shifted a bit to the left to match his thrusts with his racing heartbeat. Fast and furious. Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped as she dug her fingernails into his buttocks. He grunted and hissed as he felt her walls grip and release him.

  She was primed and ready.

  And so was he.

  “You want it?” Cole asked, his voice deep and intense.

  “Please,” she begged in a hot little whisper in his ear.

  He shivered as he shifted her leg he held on to his shoulder and turned his head to kiss her calf as he let loose a series of piston-like strokes to stoke the storm bursting to explode.

  Jillian turned his face and licked at his lips. “Yes,” she gasped against his mouth before she winced and cried out as her body shook with her release.

  He met her on the apex, licking at her mouth before releasing a roar to match that of a lion as he got lost in white-hot spasms and euphoria.

  They both breathed into one another’s open mouth and stared in each other’s eyes. When he stopped his thrusts, she took the lead in their explosive ride, wanting to push him right over the edge into madness. His rough cry was her reward as Jillian used her legs around his waist to keep him from running from her skill. She didn’t stop until all of his hardness was eased.

  Cole felt relief.

  When a tear raced along her cheek as she clung to him, he pressed a comforting kiss to it and then to her neck.

  “I do love you, Cole,” she whispered beseechingly.

  He just couldn’t allow himself to embrace that emotion.

  Not yet.

  * * *

  Jillian glanced at Cole as they worked in silence to clean and sanitize the food truck. Her cheeks warmed as she wiped down the counter where they had enjoyed each other for the first time in months. She noticed he moved with the same slowness that she did. They were drained. Truly, sleep was the only remedy after exhaustive and mind-altering sex.

  He glanced up from sweeping the floor and caught her stare on him.

  She locked her eyes with his and felt a surge of energy from his look. They shared a smile—a naughty one.

  “You missed me,” she said, just slightly teasing.

  He chuckled and tapped the push broom against the tiled floor. “I missed you,” he admitted.

  She dropped the sponge she was using and closed the gap between them to wrap her arm around his waist as she pressed her cheek to his muscular back. “I’ll be back soon. I just have to give my notice to the restaurant—”

  “No, you don’t,” he said.

  She froze and stepped back as he turned.

  “Keep the position,” Cole said.

  That made her nervous.

  “All I ever wanted was a choice in the matter and not to be treated like your personal sex slave,” he said.

  “And I’m ready to give us a serious try,” she said.

  “I’m not,” he said, continuing to sweep the floor. “Plus, you may change your mind.”

  Jillian knew she had destroyed whatever trust he’d had in her, and she was determined to prove to him that he could trust in her and, in time, one day love her.

  I hope.

  “How do you suppose we see each other?” she asked, feeling some of her own fears about love resurfacing.

  “If it matters to us, then we will make a way,” Cole said.

  She nodded as she finished ensuring all surfaces were sanitary to prepare food. Still, doubts plagued her.

  Should I trust him? Am I wasting my time?

  She released a breath.

  Why is love so dang on complicated?

  Cole came up to stand behind her. “What’s on your mind?” he asked. “I can see it on your face.”

  Nothing.

  But that was a lie and wouldn’t help her build the same trust for which she yearned.

  She leaned back against his strong body, wondering how she’d missed how secure she felt in his presence and how observant he had always been to her moods. “Love wasn’t a part of my plan, Cole, but here I am, loving you,” she said, speaking her truth as she turned to look up at him. “And it scares me.”

  In the depths of his grayish-blue eyes, she saw the fear of her own reflected.

  Cole wrapped his arms around her and bent his head to press a kiss to her forehead. “I will always be honest with you, Jillian, and that’s all I’m asking from you,” he promised. “I give you my word that I won’t lead you on.”

  She nodded, enjoying the light massage he was giving her back. She felt her desire rising as his hands slipped under her shirt and pressed to her skin with warmth, but she couldn’t run from her doubts and the fact that she already had two marriages under her belt.

  The only thing she knew for sure was how much she missed Cole in her life, and having him back was worth the risk.

  Because not having him had been torture.

  Seven

  Two weeks later

  Cole’s footsteps echoed inside the two-thousand-foot condo in the Chelsea section of Manhattan’s west side. It was empty of furniture—save for the king-size bed in the owner’s suite. The post-war nineteen-story building’s structural design was evident in the modern lines, towering eleven-foot ceilings, polished teak hardwood floors, and views of the Hudson River via the expansive windows.

  But it was the neighborhood that had clutched it for him. Chelsea offered a mix of culture, nightlife and art that suited him well. He didn’t even mind the traffic noise that reached the ninth floor because it spoke the neighborhood’s vibe. Art galleries, restaurants, shopping and gourmet food markets were in abundance among the new and old residential structures.

  There was always something to do and to see.

  His stomach rumbled in hunger.

  “And to eat,” he said.

  Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.

  He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his denims. His smile was not to be denied at a FaceTime call from Jillian. He answered. “Hello, Chef,” he said, holding the phone up to his face as he took in hers.

  She was beautiful as ever, with her curly hair piled atop her head and her face fresh of any makeup. Her brown eyes twinkled as she gave him a smile that beamed. “How are you, Chef?” she asked, standing on her terrace, the waterfront in the background.

  Missing you.

  “I know I’m missing you like crazy,” she said, seeming to steal his thought. “I hated to leave you yesterday.”

  “Me, too,” he admitted, walking down the long, wide hall to the owner’s suite. “It was hard sleeping without you.”

  “Even in that big beautiful bed?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “It felt bigger without you in it,” he admitted.

  “Then I gotta get back to it real soon.”

  Good.

  For the last two weeks, they had been nearly inseparable and how they’d spent that time together ran the gamut. From long rides across the city on his motorcycle to mind-blowing sexcapades. Long conve
rsations about their careers and their families. Cooking and feeding each other. Sometimes saying nothing and just enjoying the comfort of being together lounging naked in bed as the rain poured outside.

  “You made a good choice,” he said, eyeing the king-size structure that sat in the middle of his bedroom, the covers strewed everywhere.

  “Thank you,” she said as the San Francisco winds blew the escaped tendrils back from her face.

  His feelings for her had deepened.

  Jillian was making it impossible not to do so. She was putting on a full-court press to prove she loved him and wanted him in her life. Never had he been wooed with having his favorite meals prepared, surprising him with thoughtful gifts, and continuous declarations of her love as they invested time in each other.

  And the sex.

  He shook his head at how it had only intensified once deeper feelings had been added to the mix. Nothing felt better than looking down into Jillian’s eyes as he stroked deep within her and seeing them flooded with her emotions and, at times, tears of sweet release.

  It was addictive.

  And he felt himself crave her.

  “I just wanted to see that face before I headed to the restaurant,” she said, walking back inside her apartment. “I’m excited to see the changes.”

  “Call me when you’re done and tell me about it. I’ll be up,” Cole said, taking steps to the kitchen that centered the condo. He picked up the stack of takeout menus.

  “Something to look forward to,” she said as she leaned the phone against something to pull a lightweight jacket over the fitted long-sleeved tee she wore with her black uniform pants.

  His doorbell rang loudly.

  “Someone has company,” she said, jerking a leather satchel over her head to settle on her side.

  “Gabe and Mo wanted to see the place,” he told her, walking over to the door.

  “Speaking of family...” Jillian picked up the phone and walked down the hall to reach her front door. “My grandmother believes you’re beautiful and wants to know if I didn’t bring you around because I was scared she would steal you from me.”

  Cole chuckled, remembering and liking the feisty silver-haired woman with pink-painted lips. Dinner with Jillian’s family had been a surprise that he’d enjoyed. Her mother was warm. Her father, a solid man. And her grandmother simply adorable with a quick wit and a flirty eye wink. “Beautiful, huh?” he asked as he stood by the condo’s front door.

  “Funny, you chose to focus on that,” she mused.

  They laughed.

  “Enjoy your visit, and please check with your interior decorator on your furniture,” she quipped before blowing him a kiss and ending the call.

  Cole made a mental note to do that in the morning as he slid his phone into his back pocket and opened the front door. “Do I smell food?” he asked, looking down at the bags they carried.

  “Wow. Hello to you, too, Cole,” Monica said, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek before walking inside.

  Gabe chuckled as he offered his brother his fist for a tap with his own in greeting. “Don’t let her fool you. She is starving, too,” he said, offering his future bride an amused look when she shot him a playful glare before looking up at the towering tray ceiling.

  “This condo is beautiful,” she said, making a slow turn to take in the abundance of floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of the sun descending on the Manhattan skyline.

  Cole led Gabe into the kitchen, where he set the bags he carried atop the sizable marble island. “It will be better once Jaime gets it decorated,” he said, opening the custom cabinets to remove plates.

  The kitchen was stocked with essentials because he and Jillian had enjoyed staying in and cooking for each other.

  “Jaime Pine Design?” Monica asked, removing the lightweight emerald-green trench she wore with matching slacks and a light silk sweater. “Good choice.”

  “I always liked what she did with the townhouse,” Cole said as she took Gabe’s navy jacket and set both garments atop the empty counter.

  “Does Mother know?” Gabe asked, opening the containers of steaming Thai food.

  “I didn’t tell her,” Cole said as he piled a plate high with saucy beef noodles, green papaya salad and pak boong sautéed in traditional spicy Thai flavors. Several small omelets made with shrimp and green onions made a food tower he planned to demolish. “The last thing I need is her interfering in my life again.”

  Gabe and Monica shared a look.

  “You ready to talk about just what she did to end things with you and Jillian?” Gabe asked, leaning against the counter and taking a bite from a grilled pork skewer.

  “She got between Jillian and me,” Cole said, covering his lips with the back of his hand as he spoke with his mouth full—something his mother abhorred.

  Monica smiled at him as she opened a bottle of white wine. “Who knew you were a note writer? It’s so romantic.”

  Cole was surprised she knew that.

  “I found one in the kitchen and I read it—felt scandalous for doing so—and quickly put it back,” she said as she searched and found the cabinet holding wine goblets.

  “Where was it?” Cole asked as Gabe looked on at their exchange.

  “In her knife case,” Monica said, giving him a playful wink before she poured half a glass of wine for each of them.

  He bit back a smile and hung his head, remembering that particular note well.

  The taste of you still lingers on my tongue.

  The night before, he had spent nearly an hour savoring Jillian intimately while bringing her to one explosive climax after another.

  “You didn’t tell me you found a note,” Gabe said to her.

  “And you didn’t tell me your little brother and the chef were doing the do,” Monica countered.

  Gabe raised his glass to her.

  She touched hers to his.

  “Touché,” they said in unison.

  Cole eyed them, loving their vibe together. Monica had softened his brother, and never had he seen him smile so much. Jillian did the same for him. His rebellious brooding was not as constant.

  And his mother had contributed to taking that from him.

  “Mom offered Jillian the chef position to end things with me,” Cole said, filling the silence and giving in to the sudden need to share his frustration with their mother.

  “Damn.” Gabe frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “She didn’t know I was in Jillian’s apartment, and I heard it all myself,” Cole said.

  The frown became a scowl.

  “Perhaps it’s time I share something.” Monica took a deep sip of wine before moving over to wrap an arm around Gabe’s waist.

  He looked wary.

  “She did the same with me.” Monica finished dryly, “But I didn’t get a job offer.”

  “What!” Gabe roared.

  Monica winced as she held him tighter and recounted Nicolette’s coming to the charity ball she threw for the nonprofit foundation she’d developed to help young adults aging out of the foster care system. “She warned me that our relationship would never survive. But she was wrong.”

  “You never told me that,” Gabe said, looking down at her upturned face.

  Cole shook his head at the indignity of his mother’s behavior.

  “I didn’t because it was your mother that sent the invite to your grand opening that brought us back together,” she said, pressing a hand to his chest.

  “Doesn’t change the fact that to interfere in the lives of her sons like that is nothing but hubris and ego.” Cole’s voice chilled as his anger resurfaced.

  Forgiving was far easier than forgetting.

  “I agree,” Gabe said, tossing the rest of his skewer onto his plate as if his appetite had vanished.

  Or been tak
en from him by his annoyance.

  “I wonder what other secrets we’re clueless to,” Gabe muttered.

  Cole thought of the huge one he carried about his father. He felt guilt at his complicity.

  “Monica...” Gabe said.

  Cole looked over at her face. She shifted nervously, and was avoiding his brother’s eyes. It was odd and telling.

  Uh-oh.

  “At this point, anything you are keeping from me is a betrayal,” Gabe said, his voice hard.

  She closed her eyes and released a heavy breath. “But I signed a nondisclosure agreement when I was hired,” she said.

  Uh-oh.

  Cole could only imagine the things Monica knew about the family, having worked as their housekeeper for five years. The NDA had been necessary. Like it or love it, they were famous and the press—the paparazzi—hungered for a break in the armor that shielded the family’s privacy.

  “Gabe...” he said, realizing she was in a terrible position.

  “Monica,” Gabe repeated sternly, ignoring his brother and keeping his laser focus on his bride-to-be.

  “You can’t say anything,” she insisted, finally leveling her eyes with his.

  Cole was curious.

  “I once found a file in your parents’ bedroom of all the brothers being under surveillance by a private investigator,” she admitted, her words rushed and almost tumbling upon each other.

  “What!” the men roared in unison.

  If they had been in a cartoon, the walls and floors would have shaken.

  Monica squeezed her eyes shut then opened one to look back and forth between them.

  Gabe angrily paced.

  Cole’s grip on his wineglass threatened the fragile stem.

  “Maybe it’s time to flush out their secrets and give them as good as they give,” Cole said, curious if his father’s dalliances had continued over the years.

  Gabe paused and looked over at his brother. “I wonder how much they would like a PI digging into their lives,” he said. “I can’t even believe the nerve of them. Our parents. Are we that big of a sheep to them that we deserve no privacy?”