Page 56 of Filthy Rich

“That’s enough talking,” I say shakily as I reach between my breasts and untie the bow.

“Thank God.”

I have his absolute and irrevocable attention now as he helps me pull the two halves of my top apart and toss them aside. His eyes are pure heat and desire as they skim over my heavy breasts. The breeze feels exquisite against my bare skin and makes my pale pink nipples pucker into tight beads.

“I get my pictures now,” he says, his voice thick. “Lie back on your elbows. Bend your knees and point your toes. Arch your back for me. Pretend I just made you come.”

The best feeling in the world. I lose myself in it as he clicks away, even though I know he’s capturing my secret smile for anyone to possibly see. I don’t care. I’ve never felt so free or so seen.

“I don’t like you completely topless,” he says when he lowers the phone. “Well, I do, but I think you need something.”

“Like what?”

“This,” he says, reaching into the picnic basket behind me and producing…a jewelry box. Long and white, tied with an elaborate robin’s-egg-blue satin bow.

I scramble upright and cross my legs, heart thundering in my throat. I’ve spent enough time with Mrs. Hooper to recognize a Tiffany box when I see it, but I’m far more touched by the gesture. I get the feeling that I could discover a pack of gum inside the box and still feel this thrilled.

“This is for me?”

One of his brows goes up. “There’s no one else here.”

I don’t know why my hands are shaky. He’s been giving me little gifts this whole time. And it’s not like I think he’s slipped an engagement ring in this long, skinny box. Even so, I’m unprepared when I see what it is—a necklace with a racecar charm on the end of its thin silver chain.

“Oh,” I say, way too close to tears for the second time today.

“I thought you might like it.” He hesitates, gesturing at it. “I hope it makes you think of your father and smile. Keep him with you even though he’s gone. Keep those happy memories close.”

“I will,” I say, trying to smile as a wayward tear or two falls, despite my best efforts. I decide not to mention that I’ll also think of Lucien and our time together every time I wear it. Which will be always. Above all, I can’t believe that the man I once knew as Corporate Titan could be this thoughtful, tender and considerate. Who is this man? How many secret layers does he have? Will he ever stop surprising me? “Thank you. I love it. I really love it.”

“Don’t cry,” he says gruffly.

“I won’t,” I say, scooting around to present him with my back so I can use the opportunity to wipe away a few more tears. “Help me put it on.”

He does, and then there is, nestled between my breasts on its chain. Way too close to my heart.

I press it to my chest because I’m never taking it off. They can bury me in it when the time comes.

“Come on.” I stand and reach for his hand. “Let’s go swimming.”

But swimming isn’t on my mind as we make our way across the pebbly beach to the water’s edge, and I know it’s not on his mind. The water is gloriously warm as we wade in, with all the blues represented here. Turquoise. Teal. Indigo. Cerulean. They each have their own patch of water, and I hate to disturb them as we head out, the level rising to our thighs… Our hips… Our torsos.

He overtakes me, leading me to one of the rocky outcroppings, our own little island of privacy, and pulling me around to the other side of it, the one facing away from the beach. Then he comes closer, all quiet concern as he takes my face in his hands.

“Don’t cry,” he says again with more urgency. “It’s killing me.”

“I’m not,” I say before he kisses me, but it’s a lie.

He backs me up against our rock, his hand going between us, to our hidden parts below the waterline. He finds my clit and strokes it, leaving me breathless.

I let my eyes roll closed and the sensations wash over me. The heat on top of my head. His lush tongue in my mouth. The light breeze across my cheeks. The unyielding pressure of his body. The lapping water.

My breath hisses when he lets me up for air.

“I have a question for you,” he says. “Are you on the pill?”

“I am.”

“Thank God. I want to feel you skin to skin.”

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