Page 51 of Tender Offer
Open pocket doors next to the dining room provide a short-lived reprieve. Soon, Preston skids inside wearing plaid slippers and a predatory scowl. My thighs tense. His eyes never leave mine as he takes mirrored steps from across the table. I fake left and pull out a chair behind me, which hits the parquet floor in a thud.
I make it two steps into the living room before I’m in the air, curled to his chest like I’m weightless. His veiny forearms are on full display.
He leans forward and lowers his voice. “Got you.” His musk mixes with his minty breath.
Those two words quiver my spine. “Yes, you do,” I whisper back, my lips inches from his.
If I wasn’t in Preston’s arms, I’d question the days that stretched to weeks to separate us. I’d wonder if there is someone else.
But all doubt fades with the soft caress of his gaze and a kiss that sends the pit of my stomach into a free fall. He walks us back to his room, where we make love for the first time.
Wispy clouds drift across the night sky, prodding a cool breeze to float through the parted balcony doors. We dampened the sheets in Preston’s bed with sweat but kept them intact.
Preston’s lashes flutter against his skin. He’s on his stomach, fighting the sleep that’s tugging at his satisfied eyes. They’re filled with a tenderness that shines in the pale light of the moon. He sinks into the pillow and exhales when my fingers sweep over the lines of his shoulder blade. His eyes are on me, but his mind is elsewhere.
Sex exceeded my imagination and my wildest dreams. I knew he would be a passionate lover from the way he kisses. Each stroke of his tongue is a soul-searching exploration of the depths of my pleasure.
I unraveled under his quiet praise and the way he held my neck in place as he massaged my G-spot like they were long-lost friends. I wasn’t prepared for the eye contact. It was intense,unwavering in its focus on me and my body’s reactions to his thrusts.
“You’re gorgeous, Puff.” He reaches over to cup my face. I lean into his touch and revel in his nickname for me. “Are you sure it’s okay if I call you that?”
“Yes.” My smile is too big for my face.
“Good. Heather doesn’t suit you.”
That’s because it’s not my name.
I’ve tried and failed to reveal my identity. The timing was never right, with him popping in and out of Paris. I didn’t expect our flirtatious meet-cute to go beyond a night.
Preston was supposed to be temporary, a memory I cataloged during my time in Paris. But he’s more than that. My feelings are past the point of like, entering new territory, and I hope it isn’t a one-way street.
He hasn’t told me why he left London a week earlier than planned. His eyes were dark, hardened under the annoyance that crossed his face when he first walked in. I packed up the fashion magazines littered across the coffee table and stood to leave, but he dropped his briefcase, stormed into the living room, and enveloped me in a hug that stretched for minutes.
I thought he wanted space, but he wanted me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked earlier tonight, but I didn’t get a response.
Preston looks away with a strained sigh and stares at the headboard. We’ve yet to open the door to our full selves. Only windows we decorate with half-truths and glimpses into the lives we’re shielding from each other. I don’t think he’s trying to be any more deceptive than I’ve been. He might know me as Heather, but the heart I’m opening to him is all Madison.
The sheets rustle when he turns on his side to face me. Moonlight drapes over the muscles I licked and down to the dark hair dusting his chest. My cheeks heat when I find his eyes on meafter I peek at the pleasure trail of hair that leads to the power between his thighs.
His forearms aren’t the only things with veins.
A smirk lifts his dimples. “Was tonight okay?”
“Tonight was amazing, but it would be better if you told me what’s wrong.”
He considers me, his eyes searching mine as he decides how much he wants to reveal. His shoulder wilts. “My father and I got into it,” he says, running a hand through his thick hair. “I want to take our company in a new direction, but he’s fighting me every step of the way. I refuse to become his carbon copy.”
“So just be Preston.”
His hands slip through my arms to pull me closer. He drapes my leg over his body, and I rest my chin on his chest. “I try every day, Puff.” He kisses my forehead and shifts his eyes to me. They’re softer, void of the baggage he left at the front door. “I can be Preston with you. It’s a gift.You’rea gift.”
I wince with guilt.You need to tell him.
“Preston.”
He sits up and kisses me with enough passion to make me dizzy. My nipples perk at the brush of his thumbs, freeing a moan at the slip of his tongue.
