Breaking the Ice (St. James Family #0.5) (5 page)

“
Come for me,” he said. “Come for me.” She focused on his hand, his finger stimulating her as he fucked her. Before she knew it, her orgasm slammed into her like a brick wall. She bit his shoulder as her body jerked beneath his, her body's reaction out of her control. The bliss rolled over her in waves and then she collapsed, limp and panting. He caught her, holding her against his chest, still thrusting in and out of her. She pressed a kiss to his neck, then his chin. Now it was his turn. The tendons in his neck strained and he tossed his head back. He thrust into her hard and she knew he was ready. She took his handsome face in her hands and watched him as he came, wanting to savor the moment. He pumped into her one last time, a rough gasp escaping his lips. She ground her hips against his, milking him of every bit of his orgasm. After what seemed like an eternity, they collapsed back onto the desk, breathing hard.

He was heavy on top of her, but she didn't care. She closed her eyes, her heart thumping in her chest. She felt so relaxed, she could fall asleep right there in his arms, his cock still inside her. She ran her hands up his back, into his hair. He groaned while she stroked his scalp, absentmindedly, as her heart rate returned to normal. Finally, he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down at her. His face said exactly what she was feeling –
oh shit
.

***

Christophe watched Annata out of the corner of his eye as she redressed herself. He couldn't help it. He watched her breasts sway as she pulled back on her bra, covering up the smooth skin and swollen dark nipples. She buttoned her blouse and turned away from him, looking around on the floor. He glanced down as well, finding her panties under the desk and twirled them around his finger. She held out her hand for them, a small smile on her lips. He handed them to her, returning her smile. She didn't seem to regret what they'd just done. At least, he hoped not. He knew she'd had a good time. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her pussy clamping against his dick as she came, her body slamming against his.
So fucking sexy
. He should have known fucking Annata would be like fighting with her – no bullshit,  no holds barred, no apologies.

She went around the desk and plopped her hands on her hips. “Look at this mess you made,” she said, her voice light. He glanced over and chuckled. Papers littered the floor. The three binders she'd brought in with her knocked open and across the room. He helped her clean up, poking her and tickling her when he got the chance. She would bump him away with her hip, but he would come right back for more, until she was laughing and poking him back. Finally, when everything was tidy again, she stuffed the binders in a canvas tote and smoothed her hand over her hair.

“Well,” she said, biting her lip. Feeling like he was about to get the brush off, he grabbed the tote bag and swung it over his shoulder.

“
Where do you live?” he asked. She furrowed her brow, and he could see the gears in her head turning,  trying to decide if she was going to tell him or not.

“
Hmm,” she mumbled, fidgeting with her hoop earring. He moved around the desk, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. Her eyes narrowed, but there was no malice behind the gesture. She was flirting with him, and he loved it.  He knew the power he usually had over women, but this was different. This was Annata.

“
Come on,” he said, brushing his lips against hers. She responded, drawing her arm around his neck and deepening the kiss. He pressed her into the desk again, already wanting another go at her. His hands found her ass and he got a good handful, loving the feel of her. “Goddamn,” he mumbled against her lips when she finally broke the kiss. “I think you might like me after all.” he said.

“
Nah.” She scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “No way.”

“
Just a little bit.” He kissed her again, sucking on her luscious lower lip. She lightly scraped her nails against the back of his neck, and he felt it in the pit of his stomach. Maybe she didn't like him, but he sure as hell liked her. And he
definitely
wanted to fuck her again.

“
I have to get home,” she said.

“
Which is where?” he pried. She didn't answer, just continued stroking his neck. He squeezed her ass, wanting an answer. He wanted to see where this woman slept and ate and bathed. He wanted to see her clothes hanging in the closet. It was bizarre, but it was true. Annata St. James was like an enigma to him, and he wanted to know everything about her. “Where do you live?”

“
Upper West Side. 79
th
street,” she answered finally, those golden-brown eyes holding him in their grasp.

“
I'll walk you home,” he said, with a smile. And, surprisingly, she let him, following him to the elevator and down to the street. They began walking north up 7
th
avenue, past the crowds of happy New Yorkers, excited to finally be free from work on a warm summer night. He gave her some space at first, but couldn't resist slinging a hand around her hips, possessively. They talked about nothing – the people that passed, the sights, sounds, and smells of the city. Later, when he tried to recall the conversation, he would only remember how it felt to have her by his side and how she smiled when they stopped at the entrance to Central Park to watch an African drumming circle. And how she danced, rolling her hips and bringing her arms up to her chest along with the beat. And how she laughed when she caught him watching her.

They walked along the bike path in the park, him steering her toward the boathouse, and the rock where they had watched the sunset a few weeks earlier. As the sun dropped below the buildings in the distance, he pulled her into his lap, just like he'd wanted to do the night of the party. He ran his mouth down her throat, feeling the vibrations of her moans. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close in the orange light. The humid night held them as well, slowing down their movements and stretching the moments out into hours. He slid his hand under her blouse, across her moist skin, and she arched into his touch. They made out like teenagers until the sky was dark, and then he helped her up and they left the park.

“I'm coming up,” he announced as they stopped outside of a tall limestone faced building with a small courtyard. The building was nothing special, but Annata's apartment was up there, on one of those floors. That alone made it memorable. Years later, after he'd driven by that building countless times, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, he would learn that she'd never moved. And the thought would drive him insane, that Annata St. James had been so close to him, but so far away. But Christophe had no way of knowing that as he stood there with her under the streetlight on that humid summer night.

“
No,” she said. She pointed to the fire escape above them, five flights up.  He glanced up, seeing a dark figure perched on the metal stairs, smoking a cigarette.

“
Who's that?”

“
My cousin. She's staying with me for the summer.” Annata reached out for the bag on his arm, containing her work papers. “I can't have company.” He sidestepped her, his mind already working. How could he keep her?

“
A hotel then.” He slid his hand in his pocket, looking for his cellphone to call in a reservation.

“
You are something else,” she said.

“
I don't know what you mean,” he said, innocently, finding his BlackBerry.

“
The whole 'I'm Christophe Van der Kind, God's gift to women' thing.”

“
I think you're remembering it wrong,” he shook his head. “It was all you.”

“
All me?” she raised an eyebrow. “Who's about to call a hotel? You got that shit on speed dial?” She leaned forward, grabbing his phone. He laughed, because she'd hit the nail on the head. The numbers of his favorite hotels in the city weren't on speed dial – but they were in his contact list. He watched her as she scanned through the numbers, a smile hovering over her lips. “You don't care that I'm looking through your phone?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“
Put your number in there, while you're at it.”

“
Ha.” Annata shook her head, still scrolling through the endless list of names and numbers. Then her eyes lit up. “Mandarin Oriental. Soho Grand. Waldorf Astoria,”  she listed. “Mmm-hmm. You're too easy, Van der Kind.”

“
I travel a lot,” he shrugged with a smile. “What's your preference?” He pulled her toward him, catching her off guard. “The Mandarin Oriental is the closest, but I'll take you wherever you want.”

“
Don't you have plans for tonight or something?” she said, her voice light. “Somewhere else to be?”

I'm not done with you,” he whispered in her ear. “Not even close.” Shit, he was getting hard again just
hinting
about the things he wanted to do to her.

“
Up until two hours ago you hated me. Now you don't?” She held out his phone and he took it back.

“
I didn't hate you.”

“
You called me a cunt.”

“
I said you were acting like a cunt. Besides, you deserved it.”

“
Goodbye, Van der Kind.” She turned to leave but he grabbed her again.

“
I want to eat your pussy,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I want to suck your clit until you come and then I want to fuck you hard and fast while you're dripping down my cock. Then I'll go slow, and kiss you until you fall asleep. That's my only plan for this evening.” With satisfaction, he heard her sharp intake of breath and her body tighten under his hands. He was rock hard now and he resisted the urge to grind his erection against her ass. God, he wanted her. So bad.

“
You are good,” she murmured, giving him a side look.

“
I'm serious,” he said, running his teeth down her neck. As a heart-attack.

“
Christophe,” she said and he felt a foreign feeling – disappointment. Then something close to desperation. She was giving him the brush off. She was going to leave him standing there, unsatisfied. It felt so strange that he stepped back, letting her go. She turned to face him. “I'm going to go.” She sighed, her shoulders drooping. “Maybe I'll see you on Monday.”

“
Today was my last day,” he said. “The internship is over.”

“
Oh.” She looked blankly at the door of the building.

“
Don't think. Just come with me,” he blurted out. He was damn near close to begging, but he refused to stoop to that. Christophe Van der Kind didn't beg. Annata shook her head, putting her hand on the tote bag. He slid it down his arm and handed it to her although his body was screaming not to.

“
I'm sure I'll see you around.”

“
Yeah,” he said, his voice calmer than he felt. “You will.” She smiled, and walked away from him. “This wasn't a mistake,” he called out as she opened the door. “So don't pretend that it was.”

“
Goodnight, Christophe,” she said, giving a small, almost innocent wave. Then he watched her walk through the lobby and disappear around the corner. Brushing off the strange feelings, he headed to the street and hailed a cab. As he opened the car door, he couldn't help but glance back at the building. Then he slid in the cab and sped away. Time to get drunk.

***

Annata stood outside of the apartment door, her hand on the doorknob. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, forcing the arousal out of her system. That man had gotten her all worked up. She could still hear his words in her ear, telling her what he wanted to do to her. And she'd actually wanted to say yes. She'd wanted to go with him and let him fuck her over and over until he got tired of her. But something had stopped her. Self-preservation, maybe. It would be so easy to fall into his trap. It would be fun, and fleeting. It would end as quickly as it began. And that was the problem. Annata didn't know what would happen if she fell asleep next to him - shared herself with him. How long until she let herself go? How long until she got attached? The last thing she needed was to be hung up on a rich white boy. A quick burst of office sex was one thing. Sharing a bed was something else altogether.

Shaking her head, she turned the knob and entered the apartment. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, she thought as she kicked one of Vivica's sneakers out of her way before she tripped on it. Vivica slid in the window as she entered the living room, the smell of smoke heavy in the air.

“Who was that?” she asked, shoving up the sleeves of her huge black hoody, her legs bare.

“
What?

“
That white guy you were all hugged up on.” Vivica slouched on the couch, drawing her knees up to her chest. “He looked rich.” Annata sighed, dropping the tote bag and her purse on a kitchen chair. There was a half-empty bottle of wine in the fridge, and it was calling her name. She found the bottle, which was a little emptier than she remembered, and poured a glass. Standing in the doorway, she watched Vivica, flipping through channels on the TV.