Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(56)

I nodded. “That sounds good.”

She looked a little nonplussed, as though she’d been expecting an argument. “Well, that was easy. If all of the issues are that easy to resolve, we can schedule a showing for next week!”

The entire meeting went similarly. Danika had very helpful suggestions about all of the things I needed to green light for the showing, and I was more than happy to defer to her expertise on something that I was a complete novice at.

She was swift and professional, covering details that I hadn’t even considered, until she was satisfied that she had the showing thoroughly mapped out.

James stayed reasonably silent throughout the meeting, which I appreciated. If he had taken over, as he did with so many things, it wouldn’t have felt like it was mine. But working with Danika, seeing every step in the process without his interference, it began to feel real, like I had a career here, instead of a hobby that was being funded by my rich boyfriend.

We went to lunch with Danika after we finished. Sandra, the assistant manager of the Vegas gallery who worked directly under Danika, joined us.

She was a small, brown-haired woman with brown eyes and a rather austere demeanor. If I had to guess, I’d have said she was in her late thirties.

I’d completely forgotten about Danika’s limp until she was moving away from the table to use the restroom. Sandra murmured something about needing to check on the gallery, scurrying off.

“What happened to Danika’s foot?” I asked James.

“It’s her knee, I believe. And I don’t know. She never talks about it, but I’ve gotten the distinct impression that it was somehow Tristan’s fault.”

I frowned. That sounded beyond ominous.

We wrapped up a productive and pleasant morning with Danika, setting up a date the following week, when she swore she’d be well into the thick of planning the showing. I was excited and elated when we parted. The crazy dream that was my painting career felt like it was shaping into something real and substantial.

James gave the staff at his house the afternoon off, and we spent hours swimming in his ridiculous pool. The thing was obnoxious, with fake mountains and fountains, and four different pools, and yes, a grotto underneath one of the falls.

“I didn’t realize we were staying at the Playboy mansion,” I teased him.

He grimaced. “This is actually a part of the house that I did not design. It’s a long story, but I delegated this part of the design to my casino team, and since they knew I’d have to have some promotional parties here, this is what they did. I was not too happy when I saw it, but it has served its purpose. If I’m out of town and the casino needs to throw a pool party for some bigwigs, they do it here.”

I wrinkled my nose at him. I knew the Vegas scene well enough, even if it wasn’t really my scene. “I hope everything’s been disinfected.”

He tapped my nose. “Yes, of course. You know it drives me crazy when you do that with your nose. It makes you look so damn cute.”

I tapped his nose. “Don’t call me cute,” I told him.

His nostrils flared, rather sexily, I thought.

I was lying on a cushioned lounger in a white bikini I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in public while he rubbed sunblock all over my body. He was not efficient about the process, rubbing more of the parts inside of the tiny bikini than out of it, and grinning the entire time.

“You don’t have to work at all today?” I asked him. He’d worked the day before, but made no mention of going in that day.

“I’m taking a day off. I want to f**k you in broad daylight. I want to spread you out and strip you bare under the sun.”

That made me squirm in my seat. I’d had my hopes when he was dismissing his staff, but now it was certain. We weren’t just out here to swim.

“You’re going to get me sunburned in some painful places,” I predicted.

He held up the bottle of sunblock he was using. “I’ve got it covered. Come on now, you know me better.”

He was thorough, but slow as molasses as he covered me in the stuff. He even spent extra time on my feet, rubbing and kneading until I moaned in pleasure. He was good with his hands in every way imaginable.

The second leisurely rubbed on coat of sunblock was completely unnecessary, of course, but he did it all the same. Only James could turn sun protection into foreplay. I was writhing before he made it back up to my inner thighs.

His sunblock coated fingers teased around my sex, fingering my tiny string bikini bottoms, but he pulled them back with a wicked little smile. “For external use only, Love. I guess you’ll have to settle for my tongue.”

He pulled the strings on both of my hips loose with his teeth. I buried my hands in his hair as he buried his face between my legs.

It wasn’t his usual oral technique, avoiding my clit at first to thrust his tongue as deep inside of me as it would go. It felt drugging—it felt good, but when he finally moved up to my clit and sucked with a vengeance I came hard, gasping his name.

He moved up my body in a flash, untying my top, and moving my leg across his torso, positioning it diagonally with my ankle on his shoulder, turning me on my side, and straddling my other leg. He poised himself at my entrance for a brief moment.

“Fucking me sideways,” I told him breathlessly.

He grinned and thrust in hard. “Every which way, until we’re sated or dead, Love.”