Sweetest Venom (Virtue #2)(17)
I nod. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over my naked shoulders. He leans down, places an arm under my legs and the other behind my back, picking me up once again, and carries me to his bedroom. I recline my head on his chest and listen to the beating of his heart. “I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. You didn’t deserve that.” I look up as he looks down.
“Don’t apologize. There’s no need. Now tell me, darling. What happened with the apartment? Gina mentioned to me that you went to look at some today. Find anything to bankrupt me with?” he teases.
I break his gaze. “Nothing. I didn’t like anything.”
“You’re lying to me. I can see it in your eyes. Tell me the truth, Blaire.”
I smile ruefully. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”
“I’m afraid you can’t.”
I rub my cheek on his shirt, the silk tie soft against my skin. “And must you always get your way?”
“Yes. I don’t know any other way. And now I want you to stop avoiding the subject and tell me what happened.”
I sigh, suddenly feeling much older than twenty-three years old. “It was everything. I clearly don’t belong in The Plaza, and then the”—I pause, taking a deep breath—”and then the real estate agent, William Dowling … He, ah, he—”
His hold on me grows tighter, firmer, and stronger. “He what, Blaire?”
I shake my head and drop my gaze. “Never mind. It isn’t worth it. I really would like to just forget the whole thing.”
“Blaire, I’m going to ask you one last time to tell me what happened, and you better tell me. The next time, I won’t ask so nicely,” he warns, danger carrying in the low notes of his voice.
I bite the inside of my lip, shamefully blushing. “In not so many words, he told me when I’m no longer with you, he wants what you have. ‘Some sort of arrangement that a woman like me wouldn’t pass up’ he said.”
He’s quiet then. And as his silence grows, I can’t take it anymore. I must look at his face to gauge what he’s thinking. When I do, I’m surprised by what I see. He looks pissed. Angry. The angriest I’ve ever seen him. And suddenly, I’m afraid. But not for me. I’m afraid for William asshat Dowling.
I place a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating so fast. “Lawrence?”
“Don’t say another word, Blaire. I will deal with that man tomorrow,” he hisses, his jaw set in a hard line.
“Don’t be angry,” I say softly. “I’m not worth it.”
“Angry? I’m not angry, Blaire. I’m f*cking furious. I want to find out where that pathetic f*ck lives and break every single bone in his body. No one should speak to a woman like that. Especially you.”
I grip his suit jacket in my hands as though I would never let him go. His kind words, words that I didn’t expect from him, are a soothing balm for my heart. “Lawrence.” Thank you. Thank you for not judging me, and accepting every messed up part of me.
He lowers his mouth and places a soft kiss on my hair. “Blaire.”
When we reach his bedroom, he deposits me carefully on the floor as he reaches behind me, opening the door for me. “Go to sleep, darling. You need rest,” he says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Good night.”
I grab his forearm, halting him as his jacket slides off my shoulders. “Aren’t you coming in?”
In the silence that follows, he stares at me, his gaze swallowing me whole. Then when I think he’s about to leave, he leans forward and kisses the corner of my mouth, the crest of my cheek, the tip of my nose. Trembling, I gather his shirt in my fists. He places his hands on top of mine. “If I come in, I won’t be able to leave you alone.”
“I don’t want you to. Stay.”
Nodding, he follows me inside. I lie in the middle of the bed but he drags me to the edge of it as he sits on his haunches in front of me. The moon, the only source of light cutting through the darkness of the suite, illuminates his harsh yet breathtakingly beautiful features. Mesmerized, I imagine that’s what it would be like to stare into the eye of a tornado.
As our gazes lock, he spreads my legs apart and reaches for one of them, placing the heel on his knee. He bends down, lowering his head and placing kisses as decadent as sin along my calves, my knee, the inside of my thigh. He absorbs me, his gaze burning me, swallowing me.
Grabbing me by the ass, he pulls me forward, closer to the edge of the bed and to his mouth. Kneeling now, Lawrence lets the back of his hand trace my skin until it reaches the center of my body, teasing me, taunting me, before it continues its lovely exploration. He turns his mouth to the other leg, repeating the same torturous steps. Lawrence casts a spell on me, bewitching me, stealing my breath and making it his. His tongue absorbs my every thought until his name is all I can think of.
Lawrence …
Lawrence …
Lawrence …
Lawrence …
When he reaches my right knee, I flinch in pain. Sitting back on his haunches once again, he looks at the red, angry gash on my skin. “What happened here?” he asks, his fingers grazing the cut reverently.
“I fell,” I manage to say.
He lowers his lips, kissing the cut and the pain away. Standing, Lawrence undresses in front of me, revealing his gorgeous, hard body. How can a man be so perfect? It’s as though in the beginning when God created life, he said, “And I create this man so you can see what I’m capable of—the magic in my hands.”