Infamous (21 page)

He looked straight past her, over her shoulder at the monitors.

“I’m not in the mood, Jessica.”

She stood up slowly, knowing the movement would draw his eyes to her. Just as slowly she straddled him and sank back into his lap. The move was awkward, although she knew it didn’t appear so. The chair arms pressed into her thighs, forcing her wider open than was comfortable as she leaned into him. When he moved away from her second attempt to kiss him, she almost gave up, but leaning in for the kiss brought her in full contact with him. She ignored the leather pressing into her thighs and stroked herself slowly up the ridge of his erection. She nibbled along his jawbone until her lips found his ear.

“I’m sorry you’re not in the mood, Morgan.” She pushed herself more firmly against him, gave a little bump and grind. “I am.”

He didn’t move, but he didn’t push her away. She continued the slow movement of her hips, teasing herself and him as she unbuttoned his shirt. By the time she could pull it open, she almost didn’t care whether he was participating or not. She was on the edge.

When she reached for the button on his fly, he finally reacted, clamping his hand over her own. His grip was too hard for her to think he meant it. She wiggled off him and onto her knees in front of him. Since he still had her hand, she bent her head and ran her teeth along the hard ridge in his pants. He sucked in a breath. Suddenly, her hand was free and both of his were gripping the arm rests. She smiled and bit down gently while she made short work of the button and zipper.

Then he was in her hands, long and hard. She ran her fingernails lightly down the length of him eliciting another indrawn breath and a restless movement of his hips. She licked gently along the base pulling a little at the loose skin underneath. She inhaled deeply, letting the musky scent of Morgan fill her head. Just like that, she was panting and back on the edge.

She wanted to be closer to him, wanted him inside of her, his arms wrapped around her, to be so close they were one person. His earlier rejection held her back. She couldn’t risk being pushed away again.

Instead of climbing up his body and wrapping herself around him the way she wanted to, she concentrated on getting him just as close to the edge as she was. It was no chore, really, to slide him down the back of her throat. This was Morgan, and she loved the feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him, any way she could get it.

He was buried to the hilt, touching the very back of her throat when she felt it, that extra tension that told her he was there. For a second she hesitated, relishing the opportunity to finally have him lose control. But tonight wasn’t about control, it was about coming together.

She slid him out of her mouth, savoring the last taste of him, and started up his body. She took her time, delaying the final moment when she would guide him home. He had leaned back in the chair, eyes closed, breathing harsh. Her mouth was on his neck, his jaw. She was trembling with need, almost to her goal. Her hand was reaching between them to guide him into place when he stopped her.

He surged out of the chair, picking her up as he moved like she was a toy. One arm reached behind her and swept the desk clear, papers, stapler, keyboard, mouse, all clattering to the floor.

He sat her on the edge of the desk. She opened for him.

She was dying for want of him. She moaned as he stepped between her legs.

His eyes were bright, feverish, as he looked down at her. She reached for him, tried to draw him closer to her. She was starving for the taste of his mouth on hers. Instead, he dipped his head and captured one taught nipple in his mouth. She cried out and tried to worm closer to him.

She reached again, this time lower, wanting to fill the ache between her legs.

He eluded her and sank down onto his knees in front of her. She felt one finger hook under the thong and push it aside. Slowly, he pushed her legs wider and buried his face between them. She grasped his hair like a lifeline, the only frame of reference in a storm of passion. The sensations, his hands pushing her thighs wide, the cold wood of the desk underneath her, the feel of his tongue and teeth were all too much. She fought for control. As good as this was, she wanted to be closer, to be with him.

When he finally lifted his head, she was ready. She tried again to pull him toward her. Instead, his lips fastened over her nipple again. One arm went behind her, holding her where he wanted her. The other went between her legs. The long nights together had paid off. When he slid his fingers into her he knew exactly the spot. She convulsed around his hand as the world exploded behind her eyelids.

Before it was over he pulled her off the desk. She stumbled, but rough hands caught her before she could fall. They turned her around and pushed her down onto the hard surface of the desk. She was still reeling when he pushed into her from behind, hard and fast. It wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t what she wanted. But, God help her, it pushed her over the edge again. She let herself go, because she knew him now, too. She knew he had to be close, so close it would almost be simultaneous.

So she let herself go, let herself fly off the end of the world. And just as the world fell away, she felt him pull out of her.

She fell back to earth as the drops of hot liquid hit her back.

And there she was, just another cheap date spread over a guy’s desk.

Kinsey spent Labor Day weekend with her grandmother. Morgan spent it in his office. Jessica spent it by the pool, gazing into the sparkling water from behind her sunglasses. She found a pool in hell ironic.

If she had thought getting Morgan to let her stay was the hard part, she had severely miscalculated.

On the surface, everything was right back to where it had been before New York. They all lived together like one big happy family — now with the addition of a rotating security staff and an occasional drive-by from a hard-up photographer.

Jessica spent her days working on her book. It had taken all her courage to send a new synopsis and rough draft to her editor. The response had knocked her out of her seat.
Don’t worry about the deadline. Finish it. I’ve been waiting for something like this out of you. This is going to catapult you into literary circles you never dreamed of.

She couldn’t work up the energy to care. Work was just an escape from the rest of her life.

Kinsey was getting ready to start school. Morgan was home, or not, as his schedule dictated. In the evenings, they ate dinner, watched T.V., played video games, oh, so happy. Then the sun went down and they all went to bed.

Well, she and Kinsey went to bed.

She hoped Kinsey was getting a good night’s sleep. Someone in the household should.

Morgan routinely disappeared into his office after Kinsey went to bed. After that first night, she had never sought him out there again. In the early hours of the morning, he would enter the room, undress, and climb into bed. He never spoke, never reached for her.

Once, she tried scooting a little closer to him. She reached out a hand and stroked it down his back, laid a silent kiss between his shoulder blades. She felt his muscles tense, but he didn’t acknowledge the caress. Defeated, she had curled into a ball on the far side of the bed.

It was where she slept now, if you could call it sleep. She huddled as far on her own side of the bed as she could get, the space between them a vast chasm she dared not cross.

She thought she might be going insane. The contrast between the happy family scenes they played for Kinsey and the utter alienation in the bedroom was making her feel more than a little schizophrenic.

The worst part? She didn’t think Kinsey was buying it. She hadn’t said anything, but she was almost frighteningly well-behaved. No matter what anyone said, Kinsey agreed. She was quieter than usual and Jessica caught her watching them both with penetrating intensity.

Coming here had been a huge mistake. It had been a mistake from the start and an even bigger mistake forcing her way back in after New York. Morgan was tired of her. He didn’t trust her. He certainly didn’t love her. He had realized the mistake sooner than she had and tried to get rid of her. She was the one who insisted on coming back. Despite what they both kept repeating, this could not be good for Kinsey.

She closed her eyes. Even with the sunglasses, they felt tired and gritty. She tried to push her brain into some constructive avenue, but it just kept circling back around to Morgan.

She felt her final hope, that they would spend some time together while Kinsey was gone for the weekend, slip away. She had thought once they were alone, she might have a chance of breaking down some of the barriers he had erected against her. Instead, Morgan had barely spoken to her, had barely even come out of his office.

The phone startled her out of her fitful doze. Listlessly she picked it up from the table beside her, glancing at the name on the screen.

“Susan, what’s up? I thought you were in San Francisco this weekend?”

“Hi, J. No, I decided to stay home instead.”

“Something wrong?” She couldn’t remember what charity did what event in San Francisco every Labor Day, but Susan was always there.

“No, just decided they could do without me this year. I’m busy with a lot of stuff here, and they have a very good crop of local volunteers. I’m not needed.”

“Oh, okay.” She felt like she was missing something, but her sleep-deprived brain wasn’t up to figuring it out.

“So … we haven’t seen each other in a while. I thought we might get together for dinner, hit a few clubs — a girls’ night out.”

“Uh, tonight?” Her brain was kicking into gear, because something was wrong here. She and Mason dragged Susan off to clubs and parties, not the other way around. Saint Susan thought a “girls’ night out” was a stint volunteering at a soup kitchen.

Anyway, wasn’t she supposed to be cozied up next to her saintly doctor? The Saint and the Angel. God, it was so sweet it made her want to gag.

She couldn’t regret that Susan was finally spreading her wings a little, though.

“If you’re busy, it’s no big deal. We can do it another night.”

“Nuh, uh. No way are you backing out of this.” Susan inviting
her
clubbing — Mason would kill her if she passed this up. Susan needed to let her hair down a little. And God knew she could use a distraction. “I’ll even pick you up. What time?”

• • •

Hours later, Jessica watched with fascination as Susan slammed back another shooter. “Men,” Susan enunciated, “suck.”

There was a sentiment she could get behind. Jessica slammed back her own drink. “Right with you, girlfriend. Who needs ’em?” And who was she to question Susan’s sudden conversion to the dark side? Maybe she was the one who needed to let her hair down a little. She had been on her best behavior for weeks and gotten nil results.

If she had nourished any hope that Morgan would emerge from his office long enough to care that she was leaving, he had dashed them with one bored shrug.

“Let one of the guys drive you. I don’t want you smashing up your car on the way home.”

He didn’t seem to care if she smashed herself up on the way home. She had gotten dressed before she confronted him with her plans. Short, high-waisted mini, high heels, glam makeup — the works. She wanted him to protest, to look at least a little concerned that his hot wife was going out without him.

He was worried about the car.

So. Here she was, back in L.A., the den of iniquity, knocking down drinks and trying to make herself heard over the music. She felt like she had been sucked back in time — new club, same old scene — people and place interchangeable.

A tall blond player with perfect teeth and a practiced smile approached her. He gestured toward the dance floor, not even trying for conversation.
Sven
, she dubbed him. She looked around for Susan and spotted her already making her way onto the floor with someone else.

She danced.

She drank.

She flirted.

She was in the right club, with the right people. Don’t bother standing in line without perfect tits or a black card.

Morgan could sit home alone in his big house in the suburbs, because this is where it was all at. This is where she belonged.

She pretended it was enough.

She drank some more. Just to make sure.

She was in the bathroom. Somehow Sven was in the stall with her. There were two white lines laid out on the back of the toilet. She shook her head, backing away and coming up hard against the stall door. She didn’t do that anymore. Did she? Had she? He shrugged, and hoovered both up himself.

She was at the bar.

She was on the dance floor.

She was on the sidewalk, in front of the club.

The blond had his arm around her, probably to hold her up. The sidewalk had become soft and fluid. Over Sven’s shoulder, she could see Susan arguing with his friend. The bouncer stood in front of them, looking worried.

Scott appeared. Her driver was grim and disapproving in his black suit.

No, sir, Mrs. Riley would be going home in her own car. If the gentlemen would please step aside, Mrs. Knight would be coming with them.

She was in the car.

On the sidewalk, there was a short-lived scuffle before Sven and friend headed off into the night.

The car was pulling away before she connected the starbursts of light she was seeing with the cameramen lining the sidewalk behind the velvet rope. She took deep breaths and tried to orient her swimming head. Finally, she gave up and leaned back against the seat.

She was in the car.

Susan leaned over her, looking worried. She could hear Scott through the open door.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Knight, I’ll get her home. Are you okay by yourself?”

Susan was gone and Scott was back behind the wheel.

She dragged herself up out of the darkness.

“Where are we going?”

“Everything’s okay, Mrs. Riley. I’m taking you home.”

Panic.

“I don’t want to go home.” Morgan would be there. Failure and humiliation percolated up past the alcohol.